Into the Storm: An AU Warcraft Tale
by Gorvar
Summary: Sequel to "The Coming Storm". Fifteen years have passed since Anduin has become High King of the Alliance and the True Horde was defeated. Despite the sacrifices made by the Alliance and the Horde during the conflict, both factions face civil war. And yet with all of this, the horrible nightmare has come true. The Burning Crusade has found Azeroth.
1. Alliance: Prologue

_Valeera_

She had grown to love Stormwind. It wasn't like Silvermoon with its grand spires and floating…things, whatever they were. It was still a large city, the heart of the Alliance but there was something…cozy about it. The small streets, the canals, the fact people themselves actually swept the streets, cleaned up the horse dung and protected the peace rather than sentinels and animated brooms. Also unlike Silvermoon, she had free reign over the rooftops. As a 'honourary' member of the SI7 she was allowed to go wherever she wanted. And what she wanted the most out of today of all things, was to clear her head as she ran and jumped over the rooftops. The sun was out as everyone seemed to be as well. The Stormwind Lion was presented everywhere. The Honour Guard rode them on the streets, banners and tabards flew everywhere. The colours of blue and gold was seen in every street of the city.  
Plenty of rooftop dwellers waved at her with their little blur and gold flags. "Happy coronation day!" they exclaimed.

The smell of steam and smoke alerted her she reached the dwarven sector of town, which meant she was close to Old Town and of course, the palace. She had to hold her breath from the fumes during every job and barely looked down since she memorized every jump and nook and cranny for the past two decades she lived in this city.  
"Oi, Valeera!" one of the dwarven merchants shouted from down below and waved at her." Running late again?!" She gave him a small nod and prepared for another jump. She hated balls and gala's and…whatever else that included a lot of people. But it was the king's 15th year of rule and all his guards were required to be there. But Valeera would be late, fashionably so. She was a blood elf after all, and all blood elves had put on some sense of airs.

The dwarf continued his business with a client but his human bodyguard, a young man who was deep in his cups, laughed. "Better hurry along! The king needs his pacifier!" This made Valeera stop. The dwarf merchant turned with disbelief to his bodyguard before he face palmed as she jumped down on the street level and walked over. The human was drinking again, his face red as he kept laughing." He still using one or do you offer him yours-"  
There were a lot of traits that applied to Valeera. Loyal, tenacious, stubborn, sometimes heroic…but being impulsive was what she was mostly known for. Her fist launched and collided with the man's jaw before she knelt and swoop kicked the floor from under him. Her green dagger came out of nowhere to the naked eye and was held close to the man's neck.

"By the beards of my ancestor-STOP! "the dwarf ran over." Please don't kill him, I owed his mother a favour. He didn't know any better!"  
The young man sobered up quickly as his red face quickly became quite pale. Valeera could not help but smirk a little. She stood up and slid her dagger away in its sheath.  
"You should get a better bodyguard Hoghren, even a Murloc could've taken him out."  
"Stupid witch!" the young man found his courage as he got up." I will-"  
Hoghren took him by the arm." Thank Lady Sanguinar for her mercy." The dwarf gave the young man a stern look. The man stared back but as the saying went, 'when you stare at a dwarf, a dwarf stares back at you'...or something like that.

The young man looked down and muttered his apologies. " My apologies, ma'm…I meant you no offense."  
Valeera smiled." None taken. Happy coronation day to you all." In the distance, she ehard the bell toiling from the Cathedral Square. She was LATE! With that she dashed off, climbed her way back to the rooftops and sprinted off. She faintly heard the dwarf shout at his so called bodyguard but that faded away quickly as she broke into a full run.

She arrived at the palace a few moments later. The party was well underway since many of the Alliance's nobility were stood outside near the banquet table. Stormwind's high society with their colourful tunics mingled with dwarven and gnomish dignitaries. She noticed several darker clothed nobility who spoke in more hushed tones than their Stormwind peers. One even adjusted his monocle when a dwarf slapped him in the back as he laughed boisterously. Gilneans, Valeera knew, and with less people present than last year. And the ones being there even seemed to be there against their will. She narrowed her eyes as she saw them talking quietly with some nobles from Lordearon and Stromgarde. Lordearon and Stromgarde were as thick as thieves ever since the War of the Roses fifteen years ago, with their royalty being married and all. Earlier she saw a few Alterac, another member of the Northern Kingdoms, in town at taverns and brothels but those were sailors, probably their transport. Her attention was focused on the noblemen however though.  
In her years as a rogue and member of Stormwind's court, she knew hushed muttering in cliques rarely meant well.

Valeera snuck into a servant's room and dressed herself as one of the waiters, tying her ears and long blonde hair in one bun and covered it with a chef's hat. She picked up a tray and went around the guests. She offered a draenei some shrimp salad as she overheard the Gilneans.

"King Greymane is deathly ill." One of their number said." He hasn't been seen since last the last Wickerman festival."  
The first's wife nodded. "Princess Tess has already taken over most of his functions, if he were to abdicate it would be a formality really."  
"Holy light…" a Lordearon noble gasped." Does King Anduin know?"  
"Send some of Stormwind and Exodar's best healers…but even so I don't think this friendship between Gilneas and Stormwind will last." The Gilnean man took one of Valeera' shrimps and paid her no mind aside from a small thank you." Gilneas has always been conservative. And every time we ended up with the Alliance we lost a lot more than we gained. It took us years before we got Gilneas back and for the past six we had to pay out of our own coin to rebuild our land."

The Stromgarde noblewoman nodded." King Anduin means well and I'm glad he put a stop to the war but….he's a weak king. I mean he preaches on and on about the Light but it was your people's Harvest Witches that saved Westfall and Stormwind from starvation."  
Her Lordearon compatriot nodded." Does your Princess still entertain the thought to step down from the Grand Alliance and join the Northern Kingdoms? With Gilneas at our side and soon the Wildhammers we can take back Lordearon from the Forsaken, theoretically speaking."  
The Gilneas noblemen frowned." I can't speak for the princess but…possible."

Valeera moved away as she tried her best to hide her anger. She warned Anduin this would happen! The Northern Kingdoms were pardoned for the War of the Roses five years back and what happens? They speak of treason at the king's own feast! She had to find the king or his spymaster, Mathias Shaw.  
She moved to another portion of the feast towards the exit when she saw more dignitaries were there, some whom she didn't expect. Lord Halmadir, the Horde ambassador from Silvermoon who held office in the Cathedral Square, was seen chatting with some other Horde dignitaries. One of them was the Yaungol ambassador named Gulan.

The Yaungol had been part of the Horde for some time now but it was strange to see them in Stormwind speaking in a civil tone and not burn something out of boredom. They were speaking in the orcish tongue so they didn't bother to hide their conversation like the Gilneans were, which was foolish since Valeera did know how how to speak and understand orcish. Who knew her time as a gladiator would serve her well in espionage? She picked up a wine glass tray and made her way.

"How are things with the Warchief?" Halmadir asked, his arm around some drunk human girl who had no idea what they were talking about but rather peered into her empty wine glass. Valeera took this as a excellent way to slip in and took the woman's empty glass and offered a new one. As the human woman took the glass, Valeera kept her ears on the conversation.  
Gulan grunted softly as his nuzzle twitched." Not well. Before I left Orgrimmar he did not leave his bedchambers for three days. Already the vultures are flying around him." He spat." Disrespectfull."  
Halmadir raised his brow at the gesture." I concur…so, who are the candidates?"  
"Sen'jin, Vol'jin' son is the obvious one. Lacks a spine but he has a lot of friends. He reminds me a lot of this human king. Goes around healing the sick, feeding the starving…but like I said, soft. He would be a puppet to the Horde council. If Sen'jin is chosen it would be Eitrigg, Zen'tabra and Drak'thul who rule. On the other hand we have Durak, by Ordos' flames…"  
"Thrall….I mean Go'el's boy?" Halmadir clarified.

"Yes. The orcs have become a minority in their own Horde and demand a orc to be put back on the throne, this was even before Vol'jin got sick and its getting louder now even so. Durak is young, hungry for glory and fresh off his campaign in burning the Razorfen Kraul. If he is chosen…we might have another Garrosh Hellscream on our hands." Valeera offered some wine to the Yaungol but he refused, shaking his massive horned head.  
Halmadir nodded, deep in thought." And Warlord Torakk Bloodrain? Last I heard he seems the type as well. The Beastmaw Clan is growing quite rapidly and has nearly all the Horde races represented in it. If anything out of those two pups he would have experience needed to run the Horde."  
Gulan rubbed his chin in thought." That is a good assumption…it depends if Baine or, Ordos help us, Sylvanas steps up to the challenge."  
Halmadir took the wine glass offered from Valeera. "Sylvanas has been very quiet, fortifying her strongholds in Lordearon. It's like she's preparing for something but I don't know what…"

Valeera heard enough and made her exit. She made her way inside the palace, passed more nobles doing whatever nobles did. As she took off her hat and undid the bound which unleashed her long, blonde hair, she heard Mathias Shaw walk next to her. So when she turned she wasn't surprised to see the leader of SI7 having appeared out of nowhere next to her. He was dressed in his double breasted suit, no doubt coming from the party himself.

"Why did you hear, Lady Sanguiar?" Mathias asked.  
"Probably the same as you. Gilneas is going to join the Northern Kingdoms after Greymane dies, Vol'jin is kicking the bucket soon so the Horde might be thrown into a succession war, Sylvanas is doing Light knows what…"  
Mathias nodded." And what of the night elves?"  
She raised her brow." What about them?"  
"Noticed how none were here?"  
"I…did notice." She admitted.  
"The Darnassian government has been slowly eroding from meetings such as this. According to our spies, High General Feathermoon has kept in touch with Gilneas and the Azuremyst Isles. Frequently asking them to 'leave the Golden Lion behind. He can only roar but relies on you, his huntresses, to do his dirt work.'".  
"Very poetic…" Valeera glared.  
"And sadly true…"  
"He should be told of all of this!"  
"Valeera, he knows."

The blood elf frowned." Excuse me?"  
"He knows. The Northern Kingdoms, Darnassus…he is allowing them to leave the Alliance." Mathias rubbed his nostrils." I told him all of this and he just left the feast."  
"To do what?" Valeera frowned.  
"What do you think?"  
"Pray..." she sighed. He was a good man but he had to much of a heart to be a good king.  
"Stormwind's only real allies seem to be Ironforge, Gnomeregan and Exodar. Better than nothing I suppose…" he stopped." Would you mind telling the king to at least try and make nice? Maybe consider…you know."  
"I will." She replied. Shaw gave a small nod and left. As she turned she bumped into a smaller form, a teenage girl who fell flat on the ground…and dropped her stolen wares. Silver forks and knives, some coins and cookies.

Valeera frowned and helped the young raven haired girl from the ground. When she looked into the young girl's eyes, she couldn't help but see the father's eyes. She even had the same snarl when he got angry. She could've been pretty were she not dressed like a tomboy. " Let me go, I'm fine!"  
Before Valeera could speak, the guards came around the corner.  
Her eyes darted from the objects to the ground to the guards and quickly put things together.  
"There you are, Varia!" Valeera dusted the young girl off." And you got the stuff for the feast, very good." She looked to the guards with a slight frown. They bowed their heads slightly and walked off, one giving the young girl a nasty look.

Valeera waited before she grabbed the black-haired girl by her shoulder, left the silverwork where it lay and nearly dragged her to a small room." The HELL is wrong with you?!"  
"Let me go!" she shrugged Valeera's hand off." I could've gotten away if you didn't get in the way with your big-"She stopped herself when Valeera glared dangerously." Yeah, I could've gotten away…"  
"First off, people saw your face. Second, you carried to much to get anywhere and third, there were hundreds of different routes in this palace alone that had less guards in it than the front door. And even if you could get away, YOU LIVE HERE! Your mother would be in very big trouble."  
"At least she would have her face away from her books for five minutes…" the young girl folded her arms.  
"Attention ,is that what it's all about?" Valeera asked to which Varia shrugged her shoulder. Teenagers, she hated teenagers…a thought came to her.  
"Alright in that case you've got mine. If you want to be a thief, I might as well train you to be a good one. Tomorrow at dawn, we're going to teach you how to run, what to steal and think of escape routes."  
Varia looked at the blood elf with disbelief." You serious?"

"Very. So tomorrow at dawn at the courtyard, be there or I'll tell the guard captain to drag you to the king himself."  
"No! Not the king!" Varia pleaded." Alright, alright. Tomorrow, dawn. Courtyard."  
"Good." She ruffled her hair." Now go home."  
Varia nodded and ran off. As she left, Valeera shook her head." You would've had a tough time with this one, Varian…"  
She made her way to the chapel as night fell. But instead of going inside she climbed upward…towards the king's bedchambers. She had learned to avoid the windows and avoid what goes on in them. Marital spats, people reading books, affairs, demon summoning once, Valeera saw it all.  
The king's bedchambers were at the very top and had a nifty balcony to hang on to. The blood elf quickly climbed inside to find the king himself praying.  
She still couldn't believe how much Anduin had grown. He was a man now, with long blonde hair and a beard. A mane really, like a Lion. He wasn't as muscular as his father was but you could see he had trained in plate armour. He hadn't even taken off his suit yet.  
His lips moved as he muttered the sermons. Quietly Valeera waited as she looked outside as one by one the stars came out and fireworks were being set off.

She heard Anduin stand and turned to face him." Evening, your highness."  
"Evening, Val." He smiled." You missed the ceremony."  
"I've seen it fourteen times before, I think I can miss this one." She smirked." Besides I was to busy spying."  
"Seems everyone is these days." He walked towards the balcony and looked outside to the fireworks." Let me guess, Mathias asked you to convince me to get Darnassus and Gilneas back in line?"  
She nodded." Also said you should consider…marriage."  
"To Tess Graymane?" Anduin asked.  
"He didn't say, but yeah…probably." She leaned on the balcony as well." With Feathermoon already sleeping with Jarod and all…." She smirked." Or you should marry a Wildhammer dwarf. Nobody would see that one coming."  
Anduin laughed." True. Or a goblin. I heard Boss Mida is still available."  
She pulled a face." Now you are just being disgusting."  
"You started it." He chuckled as another firework went off." Did you do anything else today?"

"Have you come to wash away all my sins, father Anduin?" Valeera asked in a staged humble voice." I am a very naughty girl."  
"Depends what kind of sins, my child." he smirked  
She mocked pondering. "Well….I punched a boy in the face today."  
"That's not to bad, knowing you." he said.  
"Then I held a dagger to his throat…" she continued.  
His brow rose. "That's a bit worse…"  
"I spied on your so called friends."  
"Not really nice but go on."  
"And I saved your half-sister from getting into trouble."

The High King of the Alliance sighed sadly." What did she do?"  
"Stolen some things, nothing major. It was just to get attention from Amelia she told me."  
" You believe her?"  
"I believe her, I was like her before I met Broll and your father. Well…sort of anyways. Told her I would train her or she would have to see her half-brother."  
"You said it like that?" Anduin nearly panicked.  
"No, I said she would have to see the king. I kept your secret, don't worry."  
The king folded his hands and made a fist as he leaned on the balcony." It tears me apart not to tell her Val. I had to swear to Amelia."  
"I know, Anduin…" Valeera placed her hand on his shoulder." The good of the kingdom outweighs personal happiness. Mathias told us this before. Secrecy of the confessional and all that…"  
"Even Velen said it was for the best….She's my sister and I can't even see her, Val. I wasn't allowed to be there when she grew up, held her when she hurt herself, be the big brother she needed." Het let it all out." I know I can't be the king my father was. I'm not a warrior who could rally people together. Make the tough calls he made. I'll have to marry some noblewoman someday but I want…I want…"

"I know…" she turned his face to her, pulling him close and touched her lips with his. The king of Stormwind returned the kiss and held her in his arms. The blood elf gently pulled him to the bed where they let their emotions and feelings speak for themselves. She knew what they had wouldn't last. Either by marriage or him dying of old age, she would lose him. But until then she would enjoy every moment she was with him and protect him with her life. Their coupling went on until sleep claimed them.

A few hours later, Valeera awoke to Anduin tossing and turning. "Anduin…?" she asked softly, sleep still having her in its folds. The king suddenly sat up straight, screaming as his face was as pale as the twin moons.  
"They're here!" he got threw the duvet away and got dressed.  
"Anduin what are you talking about?" Valeera quickly got dressed herself. Anduin motioned outside. As she looked outside the balcony, she understood what he meant.  
The sky was light green as green stars seemed to keep falling from the heavens. In the distance, fires erupted as she felt a sickening, warm glow inside her. She sensed fel magic, the demon magic.  
The beacon fires in the mountains were lit one by one as the bells from the cathedral toiled again.  
She had nightmares like this ever since Quel'thalas burned and she had to pinch herself at least once before she followed her king. It was the end times. The Burning Legion had come.


	2. Horde: Prologue

**Sen'jin**

"The vultures have already set in..." Sen'jin's old mentor rasped. The old orc warlock hobbled along on his cane as the young troll in a similar though loa styled garb walked with him.  
"Ya, an' I be one of them." Sen'jin said. Despite his young age, Sen'jin was quite tall for a troll. He personally thought that his size and muscle came from his mother's Zandalari side but he kept that to himself. Master and apprentice, plus a annoying imp, approached the Siame-Quashi honour guard. The Shadow Hunters immediately moved aside before either the old orc or the young troll could ask them to move. After all, why would they stop the Warchief's advisor and his son from seeing their Warchief?

The old orc's imp was perched on his shoulder and surprisingly kept his mouth shut for the past few days. Ever since he first started out as an apprentice to the warlock a few years ago, the little imp was always there to verbally abuse the youngling. Sen'jin had his own companion in the form of a Felhound, but he only summoned him when needed. He picked the Felhound because it wouldn't talk back at him like the Imp would. Once he send his hound after the laughing creature who effortlessly threw the hound back into the Twisting Nether. He was deceptively strong, his master's eternal pain.  
"Finally, da imp be keeping its fat mouth shut." Sen'jin exclaimed a hour ago in order to provoke it, but it kept silent.  
Drak'thul muttered as he squeezed his old staff." That rarely bodes well my young friend…think of him as a fish stall. If the fish smells, the fish will be foul. If it doesn't smell, it's good. Same thing applies here, my apprentice. If my imp squabbles, everything is alright. But when he falls silent… "He inhaled deeply." A storm is coming."  
"Did you ask him what's wrong?" Sen'jin asked. Drak'thul explained what the imp said…and knew what had to be done. It was not long before a messenger called Sen'jin to see his father.  
"He will ask me." Sen'jin said sadly." He will ask me to be warchief."  
"We shall see, my young friend…" Drak'thul replied. "It all depends if you can do what you need to do."

The son of Vol'jin saw the other vultures standing just outside the Warchief's bedroom. Durak and his sister Geyah were the first he saw. Durak was an imposing figure with long black hair, a warrior much like his father and clad in the same black armour of the former Warchief, Doomhammer. He didn't use the Doomhammer himself of course, since it belonged to Thrall still, but he held a familiar two handed axe nearby which according to bystanders would wail horribly when swung.

His younger sister meanwhile seemed to walk the path of her mother. Unlike her green skinned brother, she skin as brown as a tree bark, had long black hair tied into a bun and although slightly less muscular than her brother she was still quite strong guessing by the shield and hammer she was carrying. She wore the garb of the shaman and already served as her brother's advisor during the Razorfen Kraul campaign. The two siblings were as thick as thieves ever since childhood….and were two of Sen'jin's closest friends. Geyah looked up from her tomes and gave Sen'jin a sad smile which he returned with a nod.

There were two other vultures however. Warlord Torakk Bloodrain, in his fully decked out combat attire with a wolf mask that covered his face, stood with his arms folded alongside a large direwolf with fur as black as night and a young orc male, around Sen'jin's age. He guessed it was his son, Marakk. He did not know much of him but more of his older sister Talik, Sen'jin wondered why she wasn't here.  
Bloodrain was conversing with Durak, no doubt about the campaign. Of all the Orc chieftains in the Orcish council, Bloodrain was the most ambitious and he didn't make it a secret he aspired the title of Warchief if none took it. Sen'jin however did want it. It was his by birthright after all.

The last who stood quietly to the side was Baine Bloodhoof, a old friend of Vol'jin's and currently the strongest man on Kalimdor some claimed. In the last fifteen years he united the Tauren, Taunka and Yaungol tribes all over Azeroth, with many taking up residence in Mulgore. The Centaur were pushed back thanks to the Yaungol and the Taunka's more assertive ways with the elements made sure that the more unruly elements got a proper 'scolding'. Slowly but surely the damages done by the Cataclysm were being completely healed and more often than not Orgrimmar thanked its food and water supply to the Thunderbluff trade caravans to nourish the many, many trolls who had taken residence there. Sen'jin knew Baine's own advisors, even his own life mate, wanted him to take control of the Horde but something held the bull back.

Drak'thul scuttled to the side to sit down. Sen'jin looked to his master who made a gesture with his hand to go see his friends. Well…friends for as long as the carrion lasted.  
The young troll made his way to the others." Greetings, mons." He smiled weakly." I came as fast as I received ta summons."  
Geyah gave him a quick hug." Lok Tar, little brother. Are you alright?"  
"Of course he is!" Durak smiled and slapped the young troll on his shoulder." Look at him, all tall and lithe and stuff."  
Sen'jin nearly buckled under the force but smiled nonetheless at the tall orc." Nice ta see ya to, brotha. I heard of ya victory ovah da Quilboar, well done!"  
The son of Thrall snorted." Hardly a real fight. I can believe why Blademaster Mankrikk killed so many in his time, the pigmen barely put up a fight. I fought Murlocs with more spine! I wish we faced a real challenge like in the tales of the Third war! Like the humans or the night elves!"  
"Be careful what you wish for, son of Go'el." Warlord Bloodrain said." They have a tendency to come true."  
Durak merely folded his arms and snorted again in reply.

Better get it out of the way, he thought. "How is my father?"  
All present did not speak for a moment, Sen'jin knew enough." How long?"  
"We do not know." Baine said from his corner." He claims today was his last day, Bwonsamdi made sure of that."  
"Father is already inside with Lord Khort. Zen'tabra only allows two people in at a time." Geyah said.  
"Sen'jin." Durak began." If you need-"

He fell silent as the doors opened and two more people who bid their goodbye's to the wArchief of the Horde left. One was Thrall, the leader of the Frostwolf Clan and Lord Tyrathan Khort, the Alliance ambassador. Despite them being both not being trolls, these two men were his father's best friends. Both looked upon Sen'jin with a sense of pity. It began to infuriate him. His anger subsided when his stepmother ushered him in. Those present all wished him silent good luck's. Even his master gave a small nod, although his good luck meant different than the others.  
Sen'jin nodded and went inside his father's room.

Sen'jin did not like the druid and the feeling was mutual. He was the child of a traitor, his mother had tried to kill the Warchief to save her father, and he was a warlock to boot. Plenty of things to hate. He never met his mother nor was he encouraged to write to her. He did write a few times but he felt no connection to this female he never met. His father had offered to take him to the penal colony of Icend in Northrend but something always came up. A storm, a sickness, a centaur raid, a Zandalari raid and so on. In the end Sen'jin stopped getting letters and lost interest in the matter, like his mother did.  
His other stepmother Moraya did raise him well, treated him as he was her own, but she was killed two years ago when another attempt on Vol'jin's life was made. The same poisoned wine that crippled Vol'jin was the same that killed Moraya. The perpetrator, a orc female who was send to die in one of the portals that led to a demon world, was caught shortly after and burned alive.  
Sen'jin watched this happening with Durak and Geyah by his side. Even when Aggra tried to usher them away, Sen'jin stayed and the siblings stayed. Durak wanted to see the Warchief's justice, Geyah wanted to make sure both her brothers were alright. But Sen'jin stayed for one reason and one reason only. He wanted to see her burn.

The son of Vol'jin entered the room where his father was dying for weeks now. He scarcely left his side save for the times Drak'thul pulled him away for training. The once mighty troll chief of the Darkspear and Warchief of the Horde, a strong and long blue specimen of trollhood was laying on a soft human styled matrass as he was wasting away. Zen'tabra slowly closed the door behind him." Make it quick." She whispered harshly to Sen'jin before she closed the door and left the boy inside with his dying father. The smell of death and decay hung in the air, like Fel magic.  
Vol'jin's breath was slow and heavy, a old man at half the age of his own father when he passed, his namesake Sen'jin the elder.  
The Warchief smiled despite the obvious hints he was feeling pain all over. As he saw his son he weakly held out his hand, one Sen'jin gladly took and held to his cheek.  
"Fatha…" he felt tears welling up. He tried to make his heart a stone but he couldn't.  
"Hello son…" Vol'jin smiled." Why da long face?"  
The young troll sat down next to his father." Ya know why. Bwonsamdi will be claimin' ya soon."  
"Tonight even, yah ah know." The warchief said." But it be alright…ah be ready ta meet him. Take ma place among ya grandfatha and all da people I killed."

"And me?" Sen'jin asked." What bout me?"  
Vol'jin inhaled deeply as he tried to gather his strength. "Ya mastah will take care of ya, as will uncle Eitrigg an' so many others…" he looked at his son, tired." Ya be ma son, a Darkspear true and true…soon ya will be chieftain of da Darkspear."  
Sen'jin sniffed and tried not to cry." But I'm not a Shadow Hunter like you. Nor a Witch Docta like grandfatha but a…a warlock, like da traitor Zalazane."  
"Ya not be like Zalzane….ya be ma son, I raised ya to be betta den that." Vol'jin smiled." And even so, ya be helpin' our people in your own way. Da Horde loves ya…just as much as ah love ya."  
"But not as much as Durak or Baine or Bloodrain…" Sen'jin said. He pondered for a moment before he spoke." Didya decide on a da next Warchief?" He turned to him." Is it me?"  
Vol'jin closed his eyes, wrecked by pain." Son…."  
But Sen'jin did not listen." I learned everything ah could be da Horde, how ah can help. Ah aint no war mongah like Durak and no conservative like Baine. I can lead da Horde to a bettah future! Show Sylvanas she-"

"No."  
That one word shattered Sen'jin's dreams. He stared at his father for a long while before he spoke again." No?" he repeated the word with disbelief.  
"No. Son…ya be a smart man, a strong troll…but ya cannot be Warchief. It don't work dat way. A warchief can't be appointed, da Horde has to choose him."  
Sen'jin growled. "The Horde will choose a fool! A war hero! By da Loa fatha, they picked Garrosh! A stupid choice in da same ranks as Blackhand or Ner'zhul! Doomhammer and Thrall took their rank by right!"  
"Thrall was given da title as was I, son…" he placed his hand weakly on his son' shoulder." Have faith…" his father said calmly.  
His shock turned to anger. "Then who did you pick? If ah am not good enough, then who?!"  
Vol'jin coughed loudly, bits of blood sputtering over the sheets. Sen'jin's anger subsided and he immediately grabbed the flagon of water and poured some water in a cup to give him a drink.

Vol'jin nodded his thanks." Tank ya…"  
"Is fine…sorry. I just…I thought you wanted me da be Warchief." Sen'jin admitted as he fluffed up a pillow.  
"Da only way…" Vol'jin seemed to drift off." Ta became Warchief is ta kill…kill…" he began to slur out his words but Sen'jin understood. Doomhammer killed Blackhand to become Warchief. So if he wanted to be warchief…  
Sen'jin gazed down on his pillow and looked up to the barely conscious Vol'jin. So weak, so tired…he would die tonight. His father didn't deserve this pain. Durak would become another Garrosh Hellscream, Baine wouldn't know how to handle the troll tribes and Warlord Bloodrain was to conservative to lead this new troll led Horde. He knew what he had to do. For the Horde.  
"I love ya, father…" Sen'jin said and pushed the pillow over his father's face. His father barely struggled but Sen'jin kept shaking as tears came down from his eyes. Memories came to him. His father teaching him how to use their blades, how to dance, their first drink, chasing raptors…  
It was almost over, he said to himself, it was almost over…

He did not know how long his father had stopped struggling, but when Sen'jin took off the pillow he saw Vol'jin was dead. Sen'jin cried out loud when the realization came in and shook his father in vain to bring him back. He screamed until his throat was sore but nobody came. He wipes his tears before he stood up and ran outside. Nobody was left in the waiting room save two Siame-Quashi and his old master.  
Sen'jin's voice broke." He's dead…"  
The Siame-Quashi looked at him before they ran inside to verify the claim. Sen'jin, all numb, seated himself next to Drak'thul. He didn't even bother asking where everyone went. He didn't even care his master's imp was rolling over the ground, laughing its little head off.  
"Did you do what you had to do, my young friend?" he asked.  
Sen'jin nodded." I don't think I want to be Warchief anymore…"  
"Someone will have to be." Drak'thul rasped as he nudged the young troll. Sen'jin saw the orc pointed his long boney finger to the outside window. Sen'jin followed the finger and now knew where everyone went.

The stars outside were falling as they give a green hue. In the distance, he heard the war drums sound as he felt a sickening, warm glow inside him. He sensed fel magic, the demon magic. The Burning Legion had come….the reason why he had to kill his father. To unite the Horde and make them fight fire with fire.


	3. Alliance: Chapter 1

[b]Paul[/b]

The sun was high in the sky when the Stromgarde Troll Hunters rallied for the attack. Human men and women (He even counted a few dwarves among them) in red tabards with the Stromgarde eagle eagerly awaited the signal as they spied on the troll village of Witherbark down below. As Paul watched the hatred in his kinsmen eyes, he knew he was among a very motivated crew.

The night of the green stars was two weeks and all over the Northern Kingdoms more demons appeared, attacking villages and causing damage. Thankfully to the combined efforts of Queen Calia Menethil, Duke Edward Grimshore and King Danath Trollbane most of the demons in the Northern Kingdoms were rounded up and destroyed. However some citizens of Azeroth, such as the Witherbark trolls, took to the Burning Legion in a kinder way and were performing ghastly rituals to earn their favour.  
Bones, runes painted on the ground with blood and green smoke came from cauldrons as the village chanting up a frenzy as several lesser demons already roamed along with the trolls. When the news came that the Witherbark had thrown their lot in with the Legion, the king did not even wait for permission from Hammerfall and mobilized his forces.

"They are not part of the Horde and they rejected Vol'jin's amnesty." The king proclaimed." Asking the Horde for permission is a senseless formality. We're doing them a favour really." Although Paul secretly believed the king just wanted to fight some trolls again like in the old days.

The hatred between Stromgarde and the trolls went back centuries, ever since the ancient city of Strom was build thousands of years ago which gave rise to mankind's status from hunter/gatherers to the builders of empires. For many years the people of Stromgarde remained in the Arathi Highlands and fought the trolls for almost as long as the high elves did before the Undead Scourge destroyed most of them two decades ago.

Paul felt pride to be called Stromic, it was a honourable bloodline. Although with his features, most would see the prince of Stromgarde and New Lordearon more as a citizen of the latter. Prince Paul Trollbane Menethil took more after his mother than his father. He had blonde hair, a Menethil trait despite the fact his mother did not have it, and her green eyes. He was rather handsome looking and quite muscular due to his father's Stromic training. Not as muscular as the other Stromic though but definitely not a weakling. He knew how to use a sword, at least enough to protect himself he hoped, but he knew he was not someone who would get to the thick of it.  
Besides while the Stromgarde warriors preferred to run in, axes and torches ablaze, Paul preferred to stay in back with a weapon he was most skilled at.

He tied the string around his bow tightly as he counted the amount of arrows he had before he decided to make some more. Even from a young age it was clear Paul was a skilled bowmen. From stationary to moving target, he could hit mostly anything with an arrow. He was no Sylvanas Windrunner or Shandris Feathermoon sure, but he was a pretty good shot.  
He won quite the few wagers this way, not that he needed them but it helped cover his expenses when he snuck out of Stromgarde to visit the nearby taverns and mingle with the locals.

His bodyguard, Ser Nial, frowned as she saw Paul fletching his arrows." Don't you have enough of those?"  
Paul smiled." It's always best to have a few arrows to many than to few." He dipped each arrowhead into a poison vial. The poison, which was a mix of herbs and toxins Paul never really managed to remember, was the best way to stop the troll from regenerating from their wounds. While the Stromic warriors coated their blades with it, Paul coated his arrows with it.  
"Your father would prefer if you used a sword." Nial pressed.  
"My father and mother would prefer if I stayed alive." Paul replied and placed the arrows in his quiver." Besides there is a artistry in bowmen ship that swordsmanship lacks."  
The auburn haired woman raised her brow and folded her arms." Oh this will be good…go on then sire, enlighten my peasant ways with your words of wisdom."  
The prince of Stromgarde feigned a wound as he clasped his heart." Your sarcasm is deadly, Ser Nial…the betrayal…even more!"

Nial rolled her eyes." Go on then, stop playing games."  
He chuckled before he explained." Actually the reason why I use arrows is because I like to play games."  
His bodyguard looked confused." I don't follow, war is no game. You should know this."  
Paul sighed." That's not what I…" he took a moment." I'm really good at playing games of chance. Dice, darts, roulette…any game that has an element of chance in it, I'm really good at winning."  
"So like Hearthstone, betting on horses…?"  
He shook his head." No, I need to have a small hand into it myself."  
Nial nodded." Hence the arrows?"  
"Hence the arrows." he concurred.  
A host of mutterings went up as did a small red flare in the sky. "The signal, your father and Lord Alexander Grimshore are in position….about time." She added with a grunt. It wasn't unknown that Nial disliked the Alteraci people, as did most Stromic. Old hatreds die hard.  
Paul glanced down below to the village to see if the trolls noticed to. If they did, they did not show it since they were so immersed in their spellcraft. The nerves he managed to hide so well began to rear their ugly head but he crushed them down. No, he would not die. Not today. He took out a copper coin and flipped it quickly. Heads, he would life today. Tails…not so lucky. He caught the coin with one hand and slammed it onto the back of his other one. He pulled the hand back…heads. Lady luck had not forsaken him. Yet.

The Troll Hunters were giving hushed orders as they prepared to attack. Nial took Paul close while he put his coin away." Stay close to me, sire. This isn't like hunting gnolls or murlocs."  
He nodded, no smart ass reply. He put his war face on, or a mask at least, as well as his green hood. In the distance they heard the charging royal cavalry head towards the valley. Most of the troll warriors and their warlocks and demons cried out in alarm and charged towards the north, towards the Stromgarde cavalry, which left their backdoor wide open.  
Ser Nial drew her sword as did the other Troll Hunters. Their commander held out his hand in the air….and threw it down.  
As one the group silently moved down the hill and rushed to the camp. The smell of death and…wrongness assaulted Paul's nostrils but he kept focused. He spotted a troll that stood sentry. He nocked a arrow to his bow and loosened it. The sentry looked up and cried an alarm but was quickly silenced by the arrow that slammed into his throat, the creature falling down with a wet gurgle. His first troll kill. He felt slightly sick…and slightly thrilled.

More Troll Hunters silenced the sentries easily and made their way from hut to hut. Paul peeked inside these, seeing the dead inhabitants within. He frowned when he began to notice something.  
Ser Nial pulled her sword out of a troll." No elderly..." she whispered.  
"Or children…" Paul nodded. Their commander whistled and motioned to the huts. Paul nodded and grabbed a piece of wood from a campfire and tossed it on one of the huts, a gesture imitated by the other Troll Hunters. Nothing was allowed to be left standing. The group moved northward toward the center of the village, trying to pincer the trolls with the armoured royal cavalry.  
Paul fired his arrows a few times, every time getting a good hit in. It took quite a while before the trolls noticed their camp burning and began to attack the hunters in earnest. Among them several demons.

Paul stayed behind Nial and fired arrow after arrow, mostly hitting his target, as his bodyguard kept the enemy away from him. He was starting to enjoy this, he thought with a smile. Trolls, demon…every arrow that found its mark either killed or slowly killed its target. This was even better than hunting murlocs!  
"Forward!" Their commander shouted as he sliced a voidlike creature in half." For Stromgarde!"  
So he did, he charged and fought for Stromgarde. Soon enough the whole village was lain to waste.  
During the fighting Paul discovered what happened to the young and elderly. He peeked inside one of the cauldrons and saw the body parts floating in green sickness, the arsenic smell of wrong making the young prince gag. He quickly turned and threw up near a dead tree, no doubt dead from the fel magic.  
"Savages…sacrificed their own past and future for some feeble power in the present." Nial grunted and patted Paul's back." Stay with us, sire. We still have a battle to win."  
Paul wiped his mouth and nodded, his purpose renewed. By the blood of Strom that coursed within him, he would kill every single troll for this!

The group met up with the royal cavalry, the troll blood being hard to spot on the already red armour. The remaining trolls that fled towards the east climbed up the hill but didn't get far. On that hill the Alterac black dragon waited as the young Lord Alexander Grimshore, son of the Duke Grimshore, nonchalantly waved his hand as his riflemen (who looked more like pirates and thugs rather than soldiers) gunned the fleeing trolls down. Paul smirked as he saw Alexander seated in his chair as servants poured him in some wine as he looked over the battlefield…and yawned. No wonder why his father and Nial hated them. The Alteraci had the easiest part of the operation and their commander barely made the effort to look invested. Thing was, Alexander was quite a intelligent man. Paul grew up with Alexander and his twin sister Alexandra, a attempt to foster friendship between the next generation of the Northern Kingdom's monarchs. Paul got along with them fair enough but only saw failed potential. Alexander was a smart man but was constantly bored by the lack of 'suitable' challenges while Alexandria was a born leader but she was to much like her pirate mother and constantly got into trouble.  
Paul wished Alexandra was here instead though, at least she paid attention-

"Paul, look out!"  
A force knocked Paul to the ground, which made him lose his bow, as a sharp pain crunched down on his arm. He cried out in pain but remembered his training. He pulled out a dagger and stabbed whatever was biting him. Whatever bite him howled in pain and the pain lifted. Paul quickly got up and held his dagger as he saw a troll with a knife in his right eye socket howl in pain.  
Paul quickly scanned for Nial but found her being occupied with several demons. He was on his own.  
The troll, a chieftain by the looks of it, glared with his remaining eye at Paul. The wounded prince took out the other dagger and was weighing the chances. His right arm was wounded but he could throw decently enough with his left. If he missed however, nothing would stand between him and a troll feasting on his corpse. Stalling was his best chance, until Nial could save him.

"So, how does it taste like?" he asked the troll." Trollbane blood? I heard it's a delicacy among your cannibal kind."  
The troll frowned." Whatcha talkin' bout boy? I tasted Trollbane blood and ya blood be nothin' like it."  
Paul wondered what the troll meant but the creature already charged forward. His choice made for him Paul threw the knife…and hit it in his other eye.  
The creature fall down, crying out in fresh horror and pain as knives-for-eyes bawled like a child. Paul couldn't help but laugh a little." Betcha should've seen that one coming!"  
He turned to see a bloodied Nial next to him. She looked at the young prince, unimpressed, before she slit the creature's throat.  
"Good thing I softened him up for you." Paul jested, trembling a lot. It took all his effort to keep standing.  
"….You should've seen that one coming?" she took out some bandages from her belt and placed it around the bite wound on Paul's arm.  
"Yeah…I couldn't come up with anything. Sorry."  
Nial merely shook her head." We best get this looked after soon, don't want you to lose that arm of yours."  
The prince concurred. "Without it I would just have my good looks and sense of humour."  
"At least you look pretty." Nial picked up his bow before she took his good arm under her shoulder." Come on, let's go before the Purifiers arrive…"

They walked for a while until they were a decent way away from the burning village when they arrived. As Paul's arm was treated by a gnomish priest, he saw the fabled group arrive. They were a group of hooded men and women, coloured in black and whites. Their banner was a flaming white rose, in honour to their queen and Paul's mother, Calia Menethil the Dragon Queen. Most were very pale and had sunken in eyes, as if they were dead. Which they were. The forsaken who had chosen his mother over Sylvanas were accepted members of the Northern Kingdoms, although most still seemed to fear them. Including their fellow Lordearonians. But still a few seemed to have joined the Purifiers as they purified the village. With a magic fireball or torch or calling upon the holy light, the Purifiers cleansed the village from the face of Azeroth in a hale of righteous fire. Ever since the night of the green stars they appeared all over and did their best to stomp out any possible entrance for the legion to enter Azeroth. There were rumours that in New Lordearon they had grown quite powerful and even one of the Queensguard, Lord Trevor, had joined them and were locking up all those who opposed them under the pretense that they served the Legion. Paul decided he would talk with his mother about this after her return from Aerie Peak.  
But what that troll said kept popping up in his mind. I tasted Trollbane blood and ya blood be nothin' like it. He shook his head and thought no more of it that day.

The old king smiled and hugged his son after the battle." Well done, my boy!"  
Back in Stromgarde, the city cheered as the victorious Stromic returned carrying troll and demon heads on pikes and banners. Stromic red was seen on every banner, tapestry, hat or tabard. Everyone was wearing red. There was even some cheering for the Alteraci, but it was very few. Lord Alexander didn't seem to care as his litter was carried inside the city. His eyes were only on his wine servant, a shy smile on that young man's lips as Alexander spoke to him. Turns out the rumours were true, Paul noted.  
Danath, despite his age, looked even more than alive when he saw his son return with his first war scar.  
"Ser Nial, I thought my wife tasked you to keep her son safe." Danath raised his brow at Nial.  
"Can't make a omelette without breaking some eggs, sire." She replied.  
The king laughed and held his son for a moment." I am very proud of you son."  
"I aim to please, father." Paul replied with a smile.  
"Good, I was hoping you'd say that." Danath held his son by the shoulder and walked with him, Nial followed behind them." For I have a job for you."  
"Oh…I nearly died today though."  
"No you didn't. A little bit of death never stopped a Trollbane." His father said.  
"Like Uncle Galen?" Paul replied. He smacked himself mentally when he saw his father's hurt face." Sorry…"  
"Your tongue will get you into trouble young man…" Danath's good mood soured but returned soon enough." I received word from your mother, a messenger had arrived at Aerie Peak. King Anduin is calling for a meeting. Every Alliance leader is coming to Stormwind to discuss the Burning Legion invasion."

Paul frowned." I thought we were handling it well enough."  
Danath shook his head." I've spend years in Outland, I saw this happen before. What we're facing is merely a scouting force, my son. Fingers probing Azeroth for weak spots. What horrors you saw at that troll village are nothing compared to what is to come."  
His mind went briefly to the trolls that were sacrificed to the Legion. Nobody deserved that fate, not even the trolls. "Holy light…" Paul cursed. "What do you need me to do, father?"  
"I want you to go to Stormwind in three days and speak for our behalf."

Paul stopped as he went pale." S-speak?"  
Danath nodded." You are a smooth talker son and Lord Alexander, despite his arrogance, is a gifted diplomat. That is why he is here."  
That would explain why he didn't bother about the battle, Paul thought. "I…what about mother? Does she know?"  
"She's the one who came up with this idea. Son, you are nearly a man and you are the heir of two kingdoms. It's time you take up the burdens of a prince."  
"I shot trolls in the face today!" Paul exclaimed.  
"That is a good start." Danath laughed. The old king placed his hands on the boy' shoulders." Paul, you are the face of the Northern Kingdoms. We need to show the Alliance we are important enough to be part of this meeting. That whatever happened fifteen years ago doesn't matter anything now."

Paul tried to come up with a thousand excuses to not go to a important meeting, but nothing came to mind. Before long he got another hug from his old man and was pushed into a celebration with complimentary ale. Nothing seemed more enticing than alcohol to forget future woes. He lost himself in drink and games of chance as he regaled his tale of the battle, each tale more magnificent than the last. At one point in the evening a slightly older red-haired servant girl was in his lap and soon enough he was dragged off to her room.

It was early in the morning when he left the servant girl's room, he didn't even remember her name, and tried to make his way to his room. The streets were empty, except for the odd drunk who slept on the pavement. That can't be to comfortable, Paul thought.  
He walked into an alley and went to relief himself. After what seemed like a eternity he put his belt back on, turned…and found himself staring at a old woman. Paul jumped back at the sight of her. She was old and had the appearance of a Gilnean Harvest Witch. Boils, pimples and she smelled something fierce. The only thing that didn't look old was a purple rock necklace that hung around her thin left wrist. She looked the boy up and down with her beady black eyes and scoffed.

"Urghm…good morning?" Paul tried to make himself look presentable. And failed horribly." Terrific party, isn't it?"  
The old woman scoffed some more." What kind of prince are you going setting out to be? You haven't even won a major battle and already you celebrate."  
"Well…" he tucked his shirt back in his trousers." It's better than crying and waiting for the end, I suppose." He winced when a pain hit his arm. A bit of blood was coming from the bandage the gnomish priest applied to it the day before, seems the servant girl was to rough. The old woman looked upon the blood. Despite her age she was really fast and extended her finger, scooped up some of the blood before she brought it to her mouth and licked it.  
"Urghm….that was mine." Paul stated.  
The old woman ignored him." Just as a thought…." She frowned." Not a drop of royal blood in you."

The prince of Stromgarde lost his good mood now. The cobwebs of a drunken stupor gone." Listen here, woman. I don't know who you are but if you know what's best for you, you better stop."  
"Why?" she asked curiously." Will someone cut my tongue off if I don't?"  
"Well…maybe. Then again if someone did cut your tongue off they would think you were saying the truth…which you aren't."  
The old woman chuckled." You have noble blood in you, prince Paul, but none of it stems from royalty." She unwrapped the bandage before she took out a new one from her purse and wrapped it around his arm." A golden haired child will be born in a time of peril. Three warrior women will give their lives for him, he will lose a hand to rescue a world that is not his own, a warrior of the light itself…" she strapped the bandage tight." There, all done. Try to get some rest, young man. We have a lot of work to do…" With that she turned to leave.

Paul scratched his head." Wait, who are you? The hell are you talking about?"  
The old woman turned and smiled." You can call me… Lindsay Ravensun."


	4. Horde: Chapter 1

**Krea**

You never got over it. The smells, the sounds, the pure horror of a village gone dead. She could no longer see as normal men could, but she could see with different eyes. If she could see like other men, she would see that the village was utterly destroyed. Smashed up like a angry toddler would a toy city. Bodies were strewn all over the place, hacked and chopped up. Men, women, children…the handiwork of demons. No survivors. She picked up a small doll, a bear she believed, it's owner laying not far away. She hoped the child did not suffer long, but knew the opposite was more plausible. She leaned in and sniffed at the bear. Fel, it reeked of fel.

The scent still hung freshly in the air, that meant her prey wasn't to far. The demon hunter got up as she dropped the stuffed toy, the others lining up behind her. Immediately alert. There were four of them in total. Two night elves, a blood elf…and her.  
Unlike most demon hunters, who were night elves or blood elves, she was human. One of the few who survived the trials. Not only survived but thrived.  
"Krea?" one of them asked.  
"We head south." And she sprinted off with unnatural speed, followed by her kin. They left the village burning.

She, Krea, had red hair, cut short, and was dressed as all other demon hunters. Light leather armour, a red blindfold that concealed her mutilated eye sockets and of course her two curved war blades that were strapped to their back. The male hunters were bare chested but both her and the kaldorei female had a light leather vest on, not just to protect their modesty but it was more practical as well.  
Krea allowed her senses to guide her as the hunt continued. Ever since the night of the green stars she and her order were busy, trying to track and kill every demon or sympathizing warlock powerful enough to open a gateway for the Burning Legion. Eredar, Dreadlord even Shivarra all had to die.  
She knew this was just a reconnaissance mission, to burn and kill a whole village was just for sport. They needed to see which part of Azeroth was the weakest so the Legion could invade in bulk later. But the more demons killed now meant less knowledge for their leaders later.

Hours passed until they got another whiff of their prey. They were still headed south and soon enough they passed a bridge and the smell of dead trees turned to that of a living, breathing jungle. Stranglethorn, they were in Stranglethorn Vale she knew. But there was no sound of the wildlife, which meant the Legion had come and scared them off. But what did they have to do in Stranglethorn? The previous demons they faced went after simple targets to hurt the Alliance, the Horde and anyone else who would pose a threat.  
The only four locations of note here were New Booty Bay, Horde aligned Zul'Gurub and the orc town of Grom'gol, and the Alliance Fort Livingston. The closest was Grom'gol so chances were-

Krea looked up, her senses telling her the prey was close. Soon enough the sound of battle was heard. She frowned slightly; she didn't know there was another village nearby. One not on the maps.  
They went into the jungle and went to a small clearing where if she had eyes could see a small village. It was a strange blend of troll and orcish architecture. Orcish huts with spikes while troll watchtowers were scattered on the edges. The wooden wall was battered down but Krea smiled when she saw the large pile of demons were scattered around it, the Legion was not facing easy prey this time. This small village was filled with warriors it seemed.

Unlike the previous one of Raven Hill, which had few defenders, nearly all the Orcs and trolls fought tooth and nail and Felguard and fel hound alike fell to whatever they could get their hands on. Krea saw one young orc in particular. He was wielding a pick axe but the curious thing was, it had a golden glow on it, like a beacon of light that led the defenders. Despite their enthusiasm they were fighting a losing battle.  
The Eredar they were hunting seemed to relish in killing orcs, which left his flank open to a Shadow Hunter and a few trolls who sliced his left flank to pieces. This was the moment that could break the siege.

Krea drew her blades, a gesture mimicked by her kin, and without a single word they descended upon the demons.  
Where the orcs and trolls fought rather clumsily, letting their rage guide them, the hunters fought with speed and precision. Krea sliced a Felguard's leg so it fell on one knee before she leaped on a burning hut and then leaped again to slice the nape of the creature's neck. Her kind did similar tactics, short practical strikes and a killing blow.  
The orcs and trolls kept fighting however and seemed grateful to have allies. Krea noticed that the Horde seemed more willing to co-operate with Demon Hunters than the Alliance. But these people were not the Horde.  
"Tremble before me, orcs! Now you will feel the same pain you inflicted upon my people all those years ago!" The Eredar shouted. However as he charged up another fireball, the orc with the pickaxe leaped and slammed it into the demon's forehead. The large demon fell down as the fel essence left him. The orc pulled his pick axe free and went towards the next enemy." Lok Tar Ogar!" he shouted." Show them we are scarier than THEY are!"  
A battle cry went up in orcish and zandali. Like a thunderclap several lightning strikes came down on some felguard that struck them dead. Shaman magic.

"That orc killed a Eredar with a mere enchanted pickaxe?" one of her demon hunters asked.  
"Lucky strike." Another replied.  
"Focus." Krea urged." The battle isn't over yet."  
The sindorei hunter ran up a tree, did a backwards flip and slammed her blades into the last felguard's neck. He had a slight smirk when he spoke." Now it is."

"I hoped Master Illidan's training had killed your feeble attempt at humour, Cailu." The male night elf said.  
"Maybe yours did when you licked his heels all the time, Sindweller." The sindorei replied as both began to bicker. The female night elf, Alandien, looked to Krea. Even with both having no eyes, they did roll. Men. Krea nodded a little before they all faced the surviving villagers.  
The one with the glowing pickaxe walked over to them." Throm ka, strangers. We thank you for saving our village."  
Cailu did his signature smile." We merely rounded up what demons you left us, my friend. We're glad to be of assistance….?"  
The orc smiled." I am Thazz'ril, son of Thorgal. He is the chieftain of this village."

"Well one of them anyway." A older orc came down with a sad smile. He had the look of a worker but walked like a warrior, he had a series of bones that served as his necklace. He placed his axe and shield back on his person as he went to greet the Demon Hunters. With him was a female troll, the Shadow Hunter from before. Guessing by her glowing eyes she was a Zandalari. Upon closer inspection she saw several troll tribes. Forest, Jungle, Sand….what were they doing here with orcs?  
Things got even more confusing when a old Taunka came down, leaning on his cane and panted exhausted. Their shaman, she immediately saw the elements that blessed him. But she also saw his heart was beating very weakly. He had not much time left in this world.

Krea kept her attention on the man' son as well though. She looked at the young orc, the glowing pickaxe obscured it from afar but up close she could look at him all the clearer. He had vibrant colours, strong and alive. She, and her other kin, immediately knew Thazz'ril was not related to Thorgal by blood.  
They kept that to themselves however. There was something about this 'golden' orc…

"This one reeks of destiny." Sindweller said.  
Thazz'ril smirked a little." Well, I didn't bathe for a week so…"  
"Something you will do before we leave tomorrow." Thorgal said." This is the 3th attack this month." He turned to the Zandalari." Saeeta, we have to consider moving to Orgrimmar."  
The troll shook her head." We can't, Thorgal. Ya tink Vol'jin be willin' ta forgive ma people?"  
"And dying here from a demon attack is a better option?!" the older orc retorted.  
"Thorgal has a point." The taunka said in between gasps." We cannot stay here…anymore."  
"Ya both become craven since Hurka died." The Zandalari spat.  
Thazz'ril looked at the demon hunters before he stepped in between his father and the Shadow Hunter. "Urghm, father, aunt Saeeta. Why don't we argue later, when company isn't involved?"  
"A wise…proposal." The old taunka sat down on the dead Eredar with a tired gasp.

"In that case, how about we treat our guests with some food and drink?" Thorgal asked.  
If Krea could blink, she would've done. Demon Hunters were shunned in most societies, to have been treated to a feast was rare. She couldn't even remember the last time she went to a feast. Wait, yes she did! It was the Harvest Festival, she and Tomm-NO! She could not remember him. She was no longer that. No longer weak.

The feast was somewhat weak, the attack having demanded its toll on the hunting. But still several boars were roasted, accelerated thanks to troll magi, as grog was shared aplenty.  
Krea sniffed the drink before she put it back down and went for the water option instead. If she wanted pure alcohol, she would've asked for that. The snoring alerted her that the old taunka had fallen asleep, she would've been surprised he would ever wake up again.

She herself did not speak much, she left that to Sindweller and Cailu. For a village that didn't want to be found, they were quite open.  
Chieftain Thorgal was one of the three leaders of the village with Saeeta and Mulkor representing the others in the council. Apparently this village was formed by the three after they were displaced by the True Horde conflict fifteen years ago and decided to settle in Stranglethorn's jungle where nobody else really came. Neither the Alliance or the Horde seemed to know they existed which was fine. They bartered with Booty Bay but that was it. More than that Cailu couldn't get out of them.  
Krea knew that they were hiding a secret but the question was what? It wasn't treasure and the layout of the village suggested they moved previously since the huts were easy to take apart and later on put back together. The wall and spikes were probably placed because of the demon attacks. There was a mine nearby but that was it, nothing valuable. The only thing she could think of that was important was Thazz'ril. He was just a miner he claimed, but the way he rallied those people in the hour of need, the golden glow… There was something about him, he did smell of destiny but what kind?

After the boars were eaten, and after Thorgal and Saeeta had a loud shouting argument, both came forward.  
"First off, we want to thank you for your assistance earlier." Thorgal said." We shed blood together, that makes us brothers in arms."  
"Without ya, we be dead." The troll added.  
"We however have another favour to ask you." Mulkor rasped.  
"As long as you stop speaking one sentence at a time, that would be great." Cailu smirked.  
"We can make no promises." Alandien said.  
"But we will hear you out. Maybe help. Depends what you ask." Krea spoke.  
"Then let's cut to the chase." Thazz'ril said." We would like to ask you to escort us to Booty Bay."  
Thorgal nodded." I have friends still in Orgrimmar who might take us in…we're not safe here and Booty Bay is no place for our village. If we can get to Booty Bay and purchase a ship to Bladefist Bay or Ratchet-"  
"Done." Krea spoke, much to the surprise of everyone including the other hunters.

"We…really?" Thazz'rill blinked.  
"Yes." Krea replied." We will leave in the morning."  
"Dat be good." Saeeta replied." Thank ya."  
The council of the village bowed their heads and left the hunters be.

Sindweller turned to Krea." Is this the fabled human impulsiveness I keep hearing about?" he asked." Lord Illidan commanded us to hunt down demons. Not posing as bodyguards."  
She turned to see Sindweller." The boy has a destiny to him, I believe he will find it in Orgrimmar."  
"The boy?" he frowned." What' so special about him."  
"Agreed." Alandien said." There is nothing unusual about him."  
Krea frowned." You must be jesting, I can see him. Fate has something in store for him."  
Cailu nodded." Yes, I am surprised you two don't see it."  
The two night elven hunters shook their heads." You are young, you haven't seen the horrors we've seen. Hope being snuffed out. There is only pain and suffering."  
"Maybe that is why you don't see." Krea replied.

Eventually the Kaldorei relented and agreed with Krea. They would escort the village to New Booty Bay and no further. They had to hunt more demon after all.  
As the other three slumbered, they were given their own hut by the council, Krea sneaked outside of the hut and the village. The sounds of the jungle nightlife came to her, a welcome reprieve from the silence from before.  
She went away from the village, passed the sentries, into a small clearing. She cleared it out leaves and the like before she knelt down. This place would have to do.  
She took out a small dagger and cut herself as she drew a rune on the ground from her own blood. She gathered her thoughts of the past few hours and piled all her memories into a 'box'. She then visualized her master's face. Two long horns, a blindfold like hers, large wings behind him, purple skin…  
She send this 'box' to him along with three words.  
"I found him."  
She remained knelt down on the ground until the sun came up when the reply came.  
"Keep watch."


	5. Alliance: Chapter 2

**Alexander**

Stormwind was acceptable, the son of the Duke Edward Grimshore of Alterac decided. It had its charm sure with its white marble like walls, the golden lion on a blue flag, its cozy small streets with shops and barbers and theatres and you could do some nice walking in the new park or the sea dike near the docks. Some of his servants claimed there was a underground fighting ring located inside the gnomish train tunnel that connected Stormwind to Ironforge, something to investigate. There was an influx of refugees but unlike the Westfall crisis fifteen years ago, the city seemed to have coped better.  
But even despite that, Stormwind seemed so…clean. Alterac City was according to, less enlightened, foreigners a hive of scum and villainy but it had character. The graffiti, the street side fighting, the refuse on the streets, prostitutes plying their trade in the alleys, Ogre bodyguards walking with new nobility and the smoke from the factories and blacksmiths…how he missed home.  
But Alexander had a mission and it was about time he started it.

He and Prince Paul arrived a few days ago and only spoke to the king once in between campaigns. Ever since the night of the green stars, King Anduin rushed all over his kingdom to hunt down any demons that came across it. The talks of a formal alliance between the Grand Alliance and the Northern Kingdoms didn't get past formalities for the moment. He avoided the Horde dignitaries, tension with the Forsaken and thus the Horde was still quite high with the Northern Kingdoms.

Paul, although nervous at first, proved himself to be a good enough diplomat and helped clear out a imp infestation near the Tower of Azora with the king. Even the Taunka ambassador seemed impressed. But the son of the Duke kept his eye on the king though. Anduin seemed far different from what Alexander expected though. The slightly introverted religious king had turned into a commander of faith. Killing demons left and right, guiding the men forward. He seemed to have bloomed, thrived under the pressure. This could complicate things for the cause, the crux of the plan of getting Gilneas to join the Northern Kingdoms relied on a weak king. Tess Greymane had to marry Paul Trollbane over Anduin Wyrnn, only then could the Northern Kingdoms be strong enough to absorb the Alliance into its fold.  
But then again, Stormwind and the Khaz Modan nations of Ironforge and Gnomeregan were receiving the brunt of the invasion, so that was in their favour.  
Also the sindorei rogue who served as his bodyguard seemed to be quite close to the king. A mistress perhaps? And only a fool couldn't see the resemblance between Anduin and the librarian's daughter that ran about in the castle. A bastard? A scandal? This needed more investigating.  
But that was a issue for later, the king had left after word came that a village in Duskwood was destroyed with Paul in tow. Perhaps Alexander's companion could find some useful information they could use…

The young lord, dressed only in his opened up robe and trousers, looked outside his balcony at the city as night began to fall. The somber mood of the city came out more at night. While during the day the city tried to forget the Burning Legion had come, at night the reality returned in full.  
Another regiment of Footmen was marching down the street, probably to reinforce the nearby Goldshire as a group of gryphon riders flew off to the north. Adventurers, because only idiots walked around in those myriad shiny kinds of armour, up and left the city accepting errands, quests and went to hotspots where the Legion was spotted. Their work aided the Alliance yes, as would Horde adventures aid the Horde, but in the end they were only loyal to one thing and one thing only. Gold.  
They had their uses of course, in fact he was waiting for one.  
For a moment his thoughts went to his sister, wherever she was. Either at home, enjoying her dinner with mother and father or on patrol with the men. She was a lot like Paul Trollbane Menethil in that regard, being martial and the like. Bit of a bully to when they were children…and a week ago still when she gave him him a snake bite before giving him a big hug. He rubbed his arm where she inflicted the wound and let out a small sigh, he did miss her. His big, dumb bully of a sister.

A young man walked up behind Alexander, slipping his arm around his waist."Alex, come back to bed…it's so cold in there without you."  
Alexander smirked and faced his handsome lover. He was a manservant, Phillip something or another. Just good enough for a nice tryst now and then but so insignificant in the grand scale of things. Everyone has their uses, his father told him, it is in our blood to find out said uses and manipulate them in our favour.  
So Phillip served as his bedwarmer, a piece of Alterac to keep him warm until something more exotic came along.  
Alexander smiled and kissed him." Sadly I can't, my dear Phillip. I have an appointment to keep. Besides I'm sure you have some work to do or some free time to spend on something. Or someone."  
He gently disentangled himself from his manservant and dressed in his fineries, the Grimshore red and black with the family dragon embroided on it. His sister had her customized armour in the family sigil, custom made of course. Less enlightened people would think she was her father's favourite and there was some bias there sure, but he liked the shadow. Let Alexandra and Paul take the limelight, so he could do the work in the shadows.

He pecked on a dissapointed Phillip's cheek before he walked down the stairs as he grabbed his cloak and exited the apartment. He moved through the streets, sans escort, and made his way to the Mage Quarter. His appointment wasn't strictly illegal but to have a deal like that take place in Old Town would be to well known. He knew Matthias Shaw kept an eye on him so to go to Old Town would only confirm his suspicions. No, instead he would go to the Wizard's Sanctum, a known establishment where wizards, both masters and students, congregate and discuss the dealings of magic. If one of Shaw's men were to follow him, he would only see a Alteraci going to converse with wizards.  
Alexander passed a bridge or two over the canals that led to the Mage Quarter of the city. As it was night time, more people went towards the pubs or their homes as the city lights came on. The duke' son had to stop a few times to gather his bearings before he made his way to the tavern. As he entered he heard the bell's chime from the clock towers. Right on time.

The pub was full of wizard and other types but Alexander's eye went to a kaldorei priest who was seated at the bar. The young lord took his seat next to him and also ordered a drink. Something light, he had a busy night ahead.  
"Nice night." He said to the night elf.  
"Agreed." The man replied.  
"The moon might be out." Alexander nodded at the bar keep who gave him his drink.  
"The moon is always out for Elune's followers." He said as Alexander felt something dropped in his pocket. But Alexander acted like he didn't notice. This specimen of a night elven male was interesting to look at. Sharp cheekbones, a nice flowing green beard and such long but fine ears. The light that came from his eyes were almost mesmerizing. And the muscles on his arms…it seemed the priests of Elune also worked on the soul and the body. Or it could be his occupation as a adventurer that caused that muscle growth.

The two conversed some more, or flirted in Alexander's case. A feeling that was partly reciprocated as the night elf smiled now and again and replied with a similar flirt. Who knew men of the cloth were so liberal? True, celibacy was not enforced in the churches of the holy light but not many priests seemed to be quite amorous. At least in the open. A hour of sweet talk later the duo left the tavern and walked to the priest's place.  
If this were any other night he would follow the priest further into his house and ravage him, and that is what Shaw' spies have to think. The moment they entered the home though, Alexander pulled out the object from his pocket. A small stone with a blue rune on it. A hearthstone.

The night elven priest nodded at Alexander, with a sad smile, as Alexander activated the stone…and appeared on the other side of the continent. Where one moment he was a small, cozy home in Stormwind, he was now nearby an ancient looking city, surrounded by night elves, trees and tree….people. The sun was just about to rise but even so it became clear its ray would never fully penetrate the foliage above. A paved road led into the city proper, the large tree men stepped aside for him and other travelers to enter. As he entered the city he noticed the atmosphere inside was very quiet and tranquil compared to the rather hectic Stormwind or his native Alterac City.  
The buildings here were spread far apart as small bridges led over the canals. Here and there Alexander spotted a few Worgen, particular near some Gilnean styled houses (Whose architecture was in stark contrast to the kaldorei) that seemed to surround a strange looking large oak.

But he was not headed in that direction, instead he went to the other side of the city towards a large temple. Inside he found people milling and talking around a large fountain that came from a statue holding up a bowl. The statue was that of a night elven woman which he assumed was Elune.  
Several kaldorei, both civilians as sentinels, did not seem to pay him any attention and went about their business. Which was good, the less of an impact he left here, the better.  
He headed up a long stairway which led to a upper circle of the temple. He moved toward the throne of sorts where he found his appointment.  
Her guards stepped in to block him from their leader but when she held up her hand they stopped and stepped back. Their leader was a woman, a warrior woman to be exact. She bore the clothing of a priestess but it was militarized. On her person she had several weapons, ranging from arrows to daggers to chakras. He noticed several scars along her open arms and face, which showed she had experience in combat. She remained seated and motioned Alexander to come forward.

"General Feathermoon." Alexander bowed deeply." It is an honour to meet you."  
"Alexander Grimshore, yes?" the night elf asked." I expected a emissary but not one so…."  
"Handsome?" he smirked.  
She gave a faint smile, a chilling smile." I was going to say young." She leaned forward." I moved a lot of pieces to get you here Lord Grimshore, I suggest you speak quickly and pray to your Light that I didn't waste my time."  
She was assertive, good.  
"I assure you it was time well spent, general." Alexander smiled." I come here with a offer."

She raised her brow." What kind of offer?"  
Here it goes, he thought." To be part of a New Alliance, a real one. Not one held back by Anduin Wyrnn, one who would aid you the moment the Horde would even look at your forests and find them wanting. We are the same people who aided you fifteen years ago when we marched to the Crossroads, we are the same people who look at Anduin and find him a weak king who does not deserve to wear that crown let alone a be a High King of the Alliance."  
Shandris frowned." You come here speaking treason, human." Her sentinels stirred.  
"Am I?" Alexander asked as he tried to keep his calm." We have friends in Gilneas and here who know you are dissatisfied with the Alliance. How once more you have to wait for them to assist you with this Burning Legion issue while they expect you to be there the moment things go wrong."

Shandris leaned on her hand, her elbow propped on the throne's arm." My people have fought the Legion alone centuries ago, we can do so again." She then folded her hands." Also my people's bound with the Draenei is strong and they are with King Anduin. Even now their Vindicators and Rangari are hunting demons alongside my Sentinels and druids in Ashenvale. To join your Alliance would mean an end to that friendship."  
"Of course your ties to to the draenei can remain, I am merely saying when the time comes and the Legion arrives in full…it is wise to know who your friends are. Your REAL friends." He walked to the railing and peered at the night elven statue and at the water inside the bowl it held." Besides the draenei believe that Anduin is a so called Golden Hero who would come to save them and lead the Army of Light. If we were to give them a hero who is far better suited then Anduin well…"

Shandris got up and descended from her throne and stood next to Alexander. He saw her guards move with her, one wrong word…  
"You say you have a Chosen one for yourselves?" she asked.  
"Maybe." He turned to see the General." But we have something better. We have people trained in combatting demons, who are willing to use both the Light and dark magicks to achieve their goal to save this world from the flame. As we speak several of my people' ships are headed here to assist you. And forgive me for being so bold but…I do not see any Golden Lion banners or sails here to assist you. I would be a fool to insult a general of your standing but I know no general who would cast aside troops while they need every able body they can for a upcoming battle."

"Unless those troops are untrustworthy." She frowned." You made a generous offer, and what if I refuse?"  
She was playing hardball. "Then you refuse, no harm done."  
"And if I were to tell High King Anduin of this betrayal?" she folded her arms.  
"Then…it would be bad for everyone. Risking a civil war with the Legion at our doorstep is not a good move for all parties involved, save the Legion." Alexander said." We are not going to start a war ourselves, we are building a Empire of sorts. One where each part acts autonomously. No High King, no telling you what to do. All we want is trade and helping each other out."  
"And Anduin's Alliance?" Shandris asked.  
"Will be absorbed into our new Empire in time, without the need for violence. We putting up our own pieces for that."  
"And the Horde?" she asked. "I know your people have a hatred for the Forsaken."

"As do yours." Alexander said." If you join our little enterprise we can solve that issue to, the Horde treaty be damned. After all that treaty was signed by Anduin and Vol'jin. Not us."  
She gave a smirk." True." she paused. "Tell me, young lord…have you heard the news?"  
This time he was caught off guard." What news?"  
She took him by the shoulder and walked with him as her guards followed." A long time ago, there was a placed called Theramore. It was a small city that your people created here on Kalimdor. Jaina Proudmoore ruled there before she led the Kirin Tor. Despite the treaty she had with then Warchief Thrall, she had spies in Orgrimmar to keep her informed on matters Spies I helped her pick. After Theramore was destroyed, again long before your time, these spies had nowhere else to go."  
Alexander nodded." Except to you."  
"Except to me." She nodded." But instead of letting them just spy I had a better idea. I made them ambitious and made them climb up the ladder sort of speak. I gave them coin and resources to rise high. Become the big movers in their society. It was do or die. And if they ran I would leak their names to the Kor'kron or the Headhunters. They own their positions because of my backing and know their loyalty."

Alexander liked this woman, maybe fancied her if he was of that persuasion." That is a bold move. Carrot and stick."  
She nodded." It is because of their loyalty I heard this piece of news." She gave a small smile." Vol'jin is dead."  
Alexander remained nailed to the ground as Shandris walked a bit further before she stopped." Warchief Vol'jin is…dead?" she remained passive as the realization hit him." When?"  
"Since the night the green stars fell. Died in his sleep or something, not quite sure. The Horde kept this hush hush of course, they can't appear weak and leaderless in front of the world. Especially not now."  
Alexander nodded." That is powerful information."  
"It is, and it will get out soon enough. Already there are several candidates for the position of Warchief. One of them…is working for me."  
Alexander gasped." No way!" that came out of his mouth faster than he could stop himself.  
The general looked confused for a moment." Yes…way?" she shook her head, muttering something in her native tongue before she continued." If my candidate is going to succeed and become Warchief, I need more assistance in Orgrimmar. I need more pieces to move there, if you understand me."

He saw the risk already. If they were to fail, the Northern Kingdoms would be blamed and Darnassus would remain unblemished. But to have the power of the Horde to their full disposal, to move to their wishes…who needs a Golden hero and his army of Light if a puppet can get the savages to do what you want anyway?  
Alexander nodded." We've been preparing a ambassador to Orgrimmar for some time, in relation to the skirmishes on the Forsaken/New Lordearon border. We could send her and her men as agents to aid yours." He quickly added." On the condition that for now in secret, you are one of us now. Part of the Northern Kingdoms. It was a gamble, a big one. But he had to risk it. This had to be made finalized.  
Seconds passed very slowly as the general pondered. She rubbed her chin in thought before a small crept on her lips and she gave a small nod." Agreed."


	6. Horde: Chapter 2

**A woman reborn.**

Her world was pain. She did not know for how long she howled as the agonizing, terrible seizures wrecked to her. She could not compare the pain to anything else, it is as if she had known nothing else but this pain. She was in pure blackness. No sound, no light, no images, nothing. Except only her and the pain. She screamed, loud. She let the pain leave her body by screaming. If there was another being close to her, they would've been deaf by now.  
The pain continued, she continued screaming and the blackness remained so.  
Until he came. The horned devil. The devil had long, black wings, almost invisible in this pain filled black world. But the green marks on his purple skinned muscular body and his horns were visible enough as were his cloven hoofs. And those glowing green eyes behind his blindfold. Those eyes…

"Do you remember me, my lady?" the horned devil smiled.  
She could not speak but as she looked at him….yes, yes she could remember him. He came to her when the world wasn't hurting, when it had some colour. She began to remember!  
The horned demon arrived with four of his ilk. Two more like him, a male and female, along with a paler male blood elf with a fascination for red and a human female. Like their master, for they looked less powerful and lacked the cloven hoofs, they had horns, green runes and wielded the same strange blades he seemed to. The male night elf had a veil covering his eyes but the rest modeled their blindfold after their master. But they all remained silent as he spoke. This Lord Illidan Stormrage.  
"My lady, I come with you with an offer. One of immortality and strength."  
She remembered saying." Speak now, demon hunter. Right now I am still considering wherever or not your heads would make fine trophies on my wall."

The blood elf was quick to anger and grabbed for his blade but the human female stopped him, her 'eyes' still gazing at her. Was it her who caused this endless torment?  
Illidan spoke, the threat seemingly had not effect." Your people are dying. Do not deny it. The magic the Lich King had is fading on you. The bodies are decaying, within ten years you will be nothing more but skeletons. You can no longer create more of your kind or else the Argent crusade will descend upon your kind and the Horde will not help you."  
She felt herself getting angry but the demon hunter bade peace." Wait, I am not finished. I know your pain, I feel it as well. I wish to aid you and in return I would like you to help me."  
She remembered herself being intrigued." Go on."  
The horned devil smiled and explained his plan.

"When I ruled Outland, I had many Mo'arg demons working for me. Three times smarter than a gnome and a dozen times more devious than a they experimented lustfully on countless projects. The one I want to share with you is this…" he extended his hands." They found a way to bring back the dead to life. Actually being alive. Living, breathing, feeling and above all else…twice more powerful than any organic being, being able to survive wounds that would kill any other man and the ability to procreate again."  
She remembered herself laughing." A bold claim, demon hunter. But I need to see proof."  
The human female from before stepped forward." I am the proof." She announced.  
She looked at the human female and noticed something was indeed different about her. Under the tattoos there were scars from multiple surgeries, some recent wounds (from demons no doubt) that would've been lethal are healed naturally.  
"Interesting…but that would put my people at your mercy." She said to the horned devil." And for all I know you could have my people who proceed with this under your thrall."  
"Hardly. I notice you have Val'kyr with you." He motioned to the hauntingly beautiful winged women who hovered near her." Ask them if there is foul play or better yet, ask them to make sure the soul of those who proceed with the procedure remains in place. So by the end, you are still well…you."

One of the val'kyr sensed the human female and nodded." Her will is her own, my lady."  
She nodded." Very well. But what is the bargain?" Where was the knife to stab me in the back with, she thought.  
"The bargain is simple and twofold." The devil said." When the Burning Legion arrives all I want is you to fight them. Forget the war with New Lordearon and focus on what matters the most for your people."  
"I decide what matters most for my people, demon hunter." She said. But her mind was already reeling.  
"Second, I need a place for my people, to rebuild my order. The Alliance, the Horde and even the Argent Dawn are reluctant to come here due to your…reputation. I would like to move here and rebuild the order."  
She remembered agreeing to the deal. The threats of possible double crossing, Horde spies being followed back to Orgrimmar and Silvermoon and no reply coming from either.

She remembered going to north to Northrend, to the penal colony of Icend where she 'freed' goblins there to work for her. Many had spend years in that frozen cold and loved the change of scenery. Even of it was the Undercity. Their leader, Pauli Rocketspark, claimed that a few days earlier a floating Necropolis flew over the penal colony towards the direction of Icecrown Citadel. The Scourge had lain dormant for many years but the sight of that flying fortress had many goblins spooked. Which was good, fear was a good motivator.  
In Undercity they constructed the machine the demon hunter specified, as if the blue print was in his mind.

She spoke with others, advisors perhaps, who agreed with the plan.  
One of them, Galen Trollbane, suggested to go first. If he came back to life then he would be next in line for the throne of Stromgarde and not the bastard that was no son of either royalty.  
The conversion required fresh corpses, acquired via multiple means, since most organs were long turned to dust. A lot of energy, which the goblins and fel energy provided and of course the Val'kyr to make sure the soul was untampered.

She remembered Galen strapped on the chair, the power switched on and the screaming. The same screaming she would being doing herself. During the procedure the doctors transplanted the new organs, or in later cases moved the brain to a new body, as the screaming continued. Hours passed until the first of the New Forsaken was reborn.

The pale skin remained and glowing eyes, but that was all. No more skeletal arms or legs. Strong muscular arms and abs, the breathing and the sound of a heart beating. Prince Galen Trollbane had been reborn. And when he was cut loose he immediately bowed to her, his loyalty intact.  
He was the first of many and in the years that followed, thousands of Forsaken went with the procedure. Those who did not wish to be converted remained respected citizens of Undercity but most were all to happy to get a second chance.  
The New Forsaken were strong as was promised. The builders could do work in hours which would take days, some of the new Deathstalkers eradicated the Worgen and Scarlet Renegades almost without any casualties, the ones who did die being torn apart while most who got bitten or scratched or stabbed being able to shrug it off.

She remembered the city above being rebuild as more of her people desired the sunlight. She remembered seeing more children appearing, the streets above being filled with laughter as the busy sounds in the Undercity dwindling. She remembered walking in the streets above, her people bowing as always, as one woman offered her child to her. She picked up the child, this small weak thing…and she remembered being angry. This was a new life, a new future for her people and herself. And she felt nothing. She handed the child back and stormed off.

As she ponderd in her chambers, her mind wandered. Her people were her shield against oblivion once. The Val'kyr would stop her from recieving the same horrors in the afterlife as Arthas was suffering every day for all eternity. But when she held that child earlier, see her people smiling, living again... To begin anew, to become truely immortal...to feel again. Her choice was made.  
She remembered days later, or was it hours ago, being strapped to the same chair and the pain beginning.

The pain stopped as the blackness faded into reality. She was gasping for air, the seizures leaving her body. The straps came off as she was helped up by a goblin and a new Forsaken. She shrugged her aides of her and stumbled to her feet and leaned on the wall.  
"Is she alright?" the goblin aide asked.  
"Hopefully." The new forsaken replied." Some do not survive the conversion with her memories intact."  
It took a moment to catch her breath...her eyes widened, her breath! She was breathing! The wall she leaned her hand on felt...cold! She touched her cheek, it feeling warm! She felt a smile forming on her lips. Her heart pounding. She was alive! She was alive again! She called for a mirror as the goblin handed her one. She still looked as she did before but more…alive. Pale skin, red eyes…but she was breathing, her smile making her shine almost, her hair waving in the soft wind from the opened window…the wind! She felt the wind in her hair again!  
"My lady…." The horned devil brought her back to the present. She turned around and saw Lord Illidan Stormrage along with two Val'kyr." Do you remember me?"

Her smile faded as her mind fully returned to her. Yes, she was alive. Yes, she had work to do before the night of the green stars came.  
"Yes. I remember you, demon hunter." She replied.  
One of the val'kyr flew closer." Do you remember who you are, my lady?"  
"I remember." She placed the mirror down." I am your Queen. I am Sylvanas Windrunner."


	7. Alliance: Chapter 3

**Varia**

"Easy, easy does it..." she muttered to herself as she was fidgeting with the lock. If there was one perk about having a 'young' blood elven rogue as a friend, it was learning how to pick locks. Varia was always curious, busy tinkering so picking locks was a good enough hobby as any. Small problems to solve. Something to focus on.  
"Promise me-" Vareesa began.  
"Not to use it all the time, I know." Varia replied.  
The sindorei frowned and tapped her head slightly." No, do it all the time if you want. Just don't get CAUGHT."  
Varia took that lesson to heart. Since her training, she never stole anything, or anything that would be noticed, and always had a look-out. A friend whom she dragged into her little world of crime. Both were friends from a young age. Distant fathers, both having a love for books and mischief. Warren visited the royal library a lot and was a regular in Varia' household.

"Hurry up." Warren whispered as he peeked around the corner. The brown haired youth was a year older than Varia, a bit pale and chubby.  
"You see something?" Varia asked.  
"No, not yet." He replied.  
"Then don't rush me. Holy light, don't get your panties in a bunch." She went back to work.  
"They are comfy and easy to wear, shut up." She did not see it but knew her friend was grinning at that remark.  
"Ha ha."  
Warren was the result of several polite indiscretions of a knight in the king' service and a priestess of Northshire. Although technically not a bastard, it was obvious this was a sham marriage since his mother remained in Northshire as his father did most of the raising. A father who was not impressed his son was the bookish, talkative, weak spined sort. Still that made him a excellent look-out who could easily distract any on-lookers as Varia made her getaway.

"You think your mother is going to make those apple-pancakes again?" Warren asked." They were really good last time."  
Varia frowned at the lock." Maybe…mum likes it when you come over for dinner. With you being her number one fan and all." One small turn…and click." Got it."  
"Coast is still clear." Warren said." Go in, I'll give the signal if I hear or see anything."  
Varia folded her gear up and placed it in her belt before she opened the door with her gloved hand. "Thanks, Warry." She said and went inside the room.

The room was full of decadent art. Half naked marble statues of muscular men, portraits of the Duke of Alterac and his family, a king sized bed and a lot of heavy literature. The book shelf was full of novels about young kings and drama's about the duality of man. Varia rolled her eyes, this all reeked to much of a boy who wants to impress his father. She made her way to Alexander Grimshore's desk and began rooting through it. There were some letters and other rubbish but notihng usefull. She went trough the drawers, pulling out each and investigating them. She had almost given up when she came across a locked drawer. She gave a small smile and grabbed her gear. There was a smaller lock which she immediately managed to open. Inside was a small ledger, the sort she was looking for. She scanned it quickly before she took out a pieces of paper from her gear, placed it on the ledger's pages and began copying them by rubbing charcoal over it.  
"Caught you red handed, you ponce…" she said to herself.

There was a knock on the door, two strikes and then a scurrying of feet. Someone was coming!  
She put the ledger back in its place and closed the drawer before she ran to the balcony. She quickly glanced left and right, trying to find a way down. There was a lower rooftop which led to the others if one could jump and run. Thankfully she could.  
She lowered herself from the balcony before she let go, feeling the paved tiles on her feet as it let it a rather loud cracking sound.  
"Damnit!" she cursed, Valeera would've smacked her for that. She got her mind back to the present time to reprimand herself later. Varia turned and leaped to the other rooftop and made haste.  
She ran as fast as she could, not looking back once.  
"You will lose speed if you look back, don't ever lose speed. Speed is the only thing separating a successful heist and a investigation at your doorstep." Valeera would say.  
Despite the sense of danger, she was loving this. The adrenaline heightened everything. The air tasted better, the scent of bread from the bakery across the street smelled divine, the screeching of the gryphon riders far above her sounded so distant and yet so close. She held her hand on the prize on her belt, proud if what she did. She felt great, she felt alive!

She slid down from the rooftops after a few blocks, close to Old Town, and quietly made her way back to the palace. Towards the drawbridge she saw Warren waiting outside along with one of the servant girls, chatting until they saw Varia appear. The servant girl, a short dirty blonde haired girl with blue streaks, smiled at Varia." Varia, about time you showed up girl! Tells you something if tub of lard can get here faster than you can. Magic or no." She motioned to Warren. The boy looked a bit sad at that statement. As he looked down Varia frowned at the servant girl and motioned to Warren with her head.

The girl sighed." …Despite the fact he lost a bit of weight."  
Warren smiled." You noticed, Cass?"  
Cassandra nodded, rolling her eyes at Varia, as she folded her arms." Sure, whatever. How did it go?!"  
Varia smirked and held out her prize." I got it."  
"Wow!" Cassandra exclaimed and took the papers." You did it! You really did it!"  
"Was there any doubt?" Varia placed her hands on her hips.  
"Well, ever since you were caught with silver ware right out in the open a few weeks back…" Warren rubbed his chin in thought.  
"Warren. The hand that feeds you, you're biting it. Hard."  
"Right, sorry…" he chuckled nervously.  
Varia rolled her eyes before she turned to Cass." You're Intel helped us a lot, Cass."  
"Oh well, you know…Alterci love the sound of their own voice. Especially when you've poured cheap wine through their gullet, added some nod and wink and you got them eating from the palm of your hand." The blue streaked girl flicked her hair.

"Careful, your modesty is showing." Warren said before he turned to Varia."They didn't suspect a thing. Wrong turn outside the door. Yay magic."  
"Yay magic." Varia agreed." I'll go see my boss."  
Cass raised her brow. "You have a boss?"  
"There is always a bigger fish." Warren nodded sagely." Oh, could we ask your mother to cook some fish tonight?"  
"Oh, would Amellia mind me coming over? Ma's working overtime again and my shift ended ten minutes ago."  
"Sure and sure. I'll see you two later." She bid them goodbye, took the papers back and ran inside the palace.

Security tripled ever since the night of the green stars. The demons were far away from Stormwind but the nobility needed their assurances. Royal guard was everywhere as Dalaran magi were on every floor to scry for warlock magic. Most knew Varia so they either ignored her or gave her a small nod, the daughter of the librarian was of little consequence to them. Except of course to the librarian.  
"Varia Anais Bloomsworth!"

Varia stopped cold as the sound of her mother's call echoed through the corridor. She winced as she turned around and saw the blazing fury of her mother. She stormed over, her glasses over her head as her dress flowed behind her. She stopped a few inches away from her daughter, frowning with disappointment.  
"Hey mum…" Varia said.  
"Where were you? I expected you to help me in the library two hours ago!"  
The young girl bite her lip, damnit she forgot all about that.  
"I…forgot." She didn't lie that." I had to help Warren with something." She did lie about that.  
"Don't you drag that poor boy into this! You could learn a thing or two from him."  
Varia scoffed." Like what? Where to catalogue dwarven religious hymns in the children' section?"  
She got a small tap on the head from her mother for that." None of that sarcasm, I'm the one angry at you and not the other way around."  
"Yes, mum. Sorry mum…" she groaned annoyed. Some footmen were chuckling but one glare from Amellia shut them up soon enough. Varia could not help but smile a little before those deadly eyes came back to focus on her.  
"Warren knows something about responsibility, about being reliable. You never do your chores and always break the rules." She did her signature shaking her head and sighing." Your father would've been very disappointed in you."

"Well, maybe." Varia looked away." Maybe that's why he went off on that expedition, to not see his daughter be a failure."  
It was a gambit, but she had to play it. Her boss was waiting. Either it was going to be a slap or a hug. She was very grateful when she felt that hug. Varia sighed sadly and held her mother." Sorry mum…I didn't mean it."  
"I know, dear." Amellia kissed her daughter's forehead." Look…what happened to your father…one day, we will talk about what happened to him. But he would always be proud of you." She said with a soft smile.  
"Always?"  
"Yeah." Amellia nodded and let go.

"Mum, I'm sorry if I'm…difficult sometimes." Amellia smirked at that." Most of the time then. But look I promise I'll try harder from now on."  
"Good, some books need clearing tomorrow. First thing in the morning, your…'lessons' with Valeera Sanguiar be damned."  
Varia gasped." Mum, you swore!"  
"Oh shut up." Amellia replied." You should've seen me back when I was Milton Sheaf's assistant. The man mixed up Milan of the Elven House of Scribes with Thrall. Honestly how can one mix up Annals of the Alliance with Rise of the Horde, I mean honestly?"  
"Yeah, mum. Sure. Say Warren and Cassandra are coming over for dinner do you mind?"  
"Oh, no I suppose no-"

"Thanks, mum!" Varia kissed her mother's cheek and ran off." I'll be there to make it! Warren wants fish!"  
"Varia!" her mother cried out but it was drowned soon enough as Varia crossed a few corners. She was late, her boss was waiting.  
There were several secret tunnels in the palace Valeera told her about. Tunnels the Defias brotherhood had built so the massacre that happened in the First War would not wipe out the ruling classes. Most of the tunnels were deadends however and with Vancleef and mostly everyone involved in the creation dead, only a handful knew which tunnels could be used.  
Varia knew of at least two tunnels she could use, one which would lead outside the palace into Elwynn Forest and the other to a secret room where her boss was waiting.

She pushed away cobwebs and coughed from the dust but eventually she got to the secret room. There her boss was already waiting, the blonde hair being in sharp contrast to the dreary room.  
"Do you have it?" her boss asked.  
Varia nodded and handed the papers." I sketched them as fast as I could. My agents assured me Lord Alexander doesn't know what happened."  
Her boss nodded and read the pages as she continued.  
"It's all in there. The plans to get Gilneas into the Northern Kingdoms, this anonymous Horde leader getting backing from Darnassus, Aerie Peak serving two masters…"  
Her boss sighed." Falstad's treachery is what hurts me the most…even now with the Legion coming for us"  
"I'm sorry to hear that…" she folded her arms." What are you going to do?"  
"I will do what I should've done long ago. Matthias was right, the time to be a good king is over. If I want to lead this Alliance I will have to force their leaders to do as I say. Blackmail, extortion, marriage…whatever it takes."  
Varia raised her brow." Doesn't sound like what a priest would say, big brother."

Her boss smiled sadly." You are right, Varia. But a priest wouldn't have to do the things I have to. A priest is entrusted with secrets in confession because he is not allowed to abuse that power. If I want to win this war against the Legion, I will have to abuse that power. Be the monster Benedictus was."  
"You're not a monster, Anduin…you never were."  
"I am, little sister. I have to keep our blood relation a secret despite the fact that I use you like a pawn." She didn't mind helping her brother, especially since only he and Valeera knew of her and not Mathias Shaw. Who knew how deep SI7 was infiltrated by Calia Menethil's goons? She told him several times she helped because she wanted to. The thrill of the heist, the beating heart in her chest during a chase is what she lived for. Anduin continued. "I have to keep my love for Valeera a secret because I will have to marry someone else to keep the kingdom and the Alliance stable, I will now have to force people in doing things they don't want to by subterfuge and mind control. All in the name of the greater good." He rolled up the papers." Not even Velen would forgive me…"

Varia held her brother' shoulder. " He might not, but father would. I'm sure of it."  
Anduin smiled at his little sister and held her." Father would've loved you so much, Varia." He looked her in the eye." When this is over, I will announce to all of Azeroth that you are my sister. Until then…"  
"We keep everyone in the dark…including mum." She nodded.  
"For her own safety and ours." Anduin agreed. He held his sister for one more moment before he let her go." I best let you go now, it's almost dinner time."  
"Yeah, need to help mum with the library tomorrow. Can you ask Valeera to hold off on the extra training?"  
"I'll convince her. I have my ways." The king of Stormwind replied with a smirk.  
"Eww, don't want to know." Varia chuckled and ran off.  
As Varia returned to her mother and her friends, she felt happy. She was helping her brother securing the kingdom, using her skills and getting better each time and she had people who cared for her. She was not the praying sort but that night she prayed to the Light that her life would remain like this, just for a little longer.

Little did she know the dice was already thrown.


	8. Horde: Chapter 3

**Sen'jin**

It came suddenly, like being struck by lightning. Master and apprentice were walking along the walls of Orgrimmar, three days after the night of the green stars, as they gazed down on the preparations being made down below. The imp was his talkative self again, cackling manically and verbally abusing everyone.  
"You will never be warchief, my young friend." Drak'thul said.  
Sen'jin was stunned. He turned to see his master whose eyes never left the grunts training down below.  
"Whatchu talkin' about?" He asked.  
"Did he stutter, you blue gorilla?!" the imp cackled as he jumped on his master' shoulder." You will never be warchief! Ever, ever, ever!"  
Drak'thul allowed the creature to laugh, grunting annoyed but not at his imp however." Those pups are supposed to be the new Kor'kron? Pathetic…we'll be dead before long. We'll have to rely on the Dire Trolls and the Siame-Quashi, ancestors help us…"

Sen'jin had to control his rage, everything he did in life was to appease his father and lead his people against the Burning Legion. To hear that all his efforts were in vain, coming from that horrible twisted mouth….he clenched his fists for a moment before he calmly, coldly even, asked to elaborate.  
"The last time a Warlock led the Horde, it did not end well." Drak'thul replied." Ner'zhul destroyed Draenor and scattered my people across many worlds. The master completed what the apprentice had wrought. People remember that and wisely distrust those who practice the fel arts." Drak'thul rubbed his white beard." Also it might be my age playing tricks on me, but I recall you saying you did not want to be Warchief anymore." This made the Imp chuckle.  
"And I recall you saying there always had to be one, master." Sen'jin retorted before he went back into thought. He did not understand, the sacrifices he made, the many pains he suffered from learning the dark arts, what he did for-No, TO his father …it couldn't have been for nothing." I…do not understand, master. You trained me for years, to be a Warchief-"  
"No." Drak'thul turned to face his apprentice." I trained you to be a leader, a puppeteer of men." He motioned his apprentice to follow him as both walked along the walls some more. The imp jumped off his master' shoulder and ran off to cause some chaos elsewhere.

"My master was many things. Ambitious, smart, cunning, arrogant…and had quite a short fuse." Drak'thul smirked a little at the later." But Gul'dan did at least one thing right. He managed to unite the orc clans in one Horde, a feat that was never accomplished beforehand."  
"I thought dat Blackhand was the one." Sen'jin said.  
"Blackhand was a puppet, Warchief in name only. The Horde did as he said…but he did what Gul'dan told him to do. That is your destiny, my young friend. To be the puppeteer. Be the man behind the Warchief."  
Yes, it made sense now. The feeling of dread was gone but, filled with purpose." I understand, master." He pondered." Our first step must be to secure a warchief before we can make our move. If we advise one of the candidates, we can work in their favour. And when he becomes Warchief we will be elevated."  
Drak'thul smiled." Very good, my young friend. How do we proceed?"  
The son of Vol'jin pondered some more." There are many candidates, so we will have to narrow all the claims down."

"I can do that for you." Drak'thul replied and held up three fingers." Only three men are popular enough to be voted in. Warlord Torakk Bloodrain. Durak, son of Go'el and Chief Baine Bloodhoof. Each have their own weaknesses we can exploit but we can only aid one to grab that throne."  
"Whom should I choose?" Sen'jin asked.  
"Take a reading from each, my young friend. Then make your choice."

So the weeks passed as Sen'jin did indeed take a reading on each.  
First was Warlord Bloodrain, the chieftain of the Beastmaw Clan. Before Sen'jin's time, Bloodrain was a general who led a warband called the Beastmaw. Due to his actions which resulted in the destruction of the last of the rebel True Horde, he was rewarded by receiving his own clan and was elevated to the station of Warlord.  
Because of the warband's conversion to a clan, the Beastmaw were a strange mix. Yes the Rageroar clan had orcs and trolls in their ranks but the Beastmaw had nearly every race of the Horde as a member. However because of this diversity it had grown very powerful with ties reaching from Thunderbluff to Orgrimmar to Undercity to even Silvermoon.

Sen'jin had volunteered to join the clan on several large scale attacks on demon strongholds in Desolace as he tried to get closer to the Warlord. The son of Vol'jin remembered the first time the Beastmaw army was send in to cleanse Thunder Axe Fortress before it could become a stronghold for the Legion.  
Sen'jin was send to help the other warlocks and magi to provide magic support as the warriors and riders down below did the grunt work. He remembered how the wolf masked general stood on a ridge from above as he surveyed the battle down below, like a loa surveying his realm. He kept tabs on all the banners and knew when to send reinforcements or fall back. His massive black wolf was by his side as was his son Marakk and one of his generals, the one eyed Rocmar Swiftwolf, and the Clan's blind Farseer and sister to the Warlord, Farseer Tannaka Bloodrain.

"Atsuka." He called one of the runners." Tell your father to advance further north."  
"Zug zug, Warlord!" the female orc warrior saluted and ran.  
"Talik." He motioned to another female orc, a rogue guessing by her attire, who was already there before her name left her father's mouth, much to his annoyance." Tell Rokarna to fall back and assist Shakela's cavalry, we're going to unleash fire and brimstone over their heads."  
"More fire and brimstone never hurt anyone, father." She replied and turned to leave. Before she left, General Rocmar spoke."And tell Krommash to pick a better instrument for battle, he's an orc for the love of the ancestors and not an elf."  
The hooded female saluted her father and his second in command before she ran off. Rocmar turned to Sen'jin." What are you still doing here. Help Asther with summoning your damn demons."  
"Ya, general." Sen'jin saluted and ran enough. He had placed a ward nearby to eavesdrop on the two as he went over to stand with the other warlocks and magi to prepare for the massive demolition spell.

"Vol'jin's brat doesn't sit to me right." He heard Rocmar say." You heard the rumours."  
"Vol'jin was a old man, Rocmar. And if we lend credence to every rumour we wouldn't get anything done." He heard Bloodrain reply. "Remember when everyone said Durak was Hellscream's brat and not Thrall's?"  
"Lot of broken jaws and noses at that one…" Rocmar replied.  
"Still you should keep an eye on him, brother." Tannaka spoke." He is up to something. I sense it on my bones."  
The Warlord grunted at that." I'll keep that in mind. Right now send word to Karda and Krizzbolt to prepare the shaman. I want this fortress cleansed by morning."

As Sen'jin helped summon Infernals from the sky to beat their demonic brothers and their followers down below, Sen'jin knew that Warlord Bloodrain was not the way to go. He had popularity and strength yes, but the very private nature of a clan would not go well with leading the Horde. Or at least in the position that allowed Sen'jin to be a main advisor.  
After the demonic bombardment and the orc and goblin shaman cleansing the fortress with the axe/hammer and the elements, Sen'jin bid his goodbyes and left Desolace. Perhaps another candidate would do?

Chieftain Baine was a slightly better choice. Slightly.  
"I knew your father for many years, young Sen'jin. I'm sorry for your loss. He was like a brother to me." The Tauren chieftain said. Sen'jin bowed his head as he kept his eyes on the high chieftain's advisors. Among the normal Tauren he also saw several Taunka and Yaungol. The united Tauren tribes had grown more powerful over the years and even the Yaungol, fire crazed warriors as they were, had plenty of sport now the Legion came. Baine's lifemate Aponi Brightmane was there as well, decked in her Sunwalker attire. Sen'jin always liked Aponi, she was very fierce. Very alive. And she looked like she bathed in sunlight.  
"My thanks, Uncle Baine." Sen'jin replied." My father spoke highly of you."  
Baine smiled and bid the young troll to sit down. They were in a large tent in Bloodhoof village, the smell of incense the gentle tunes of Taurahe music hung pregnant in the air. A large pipe was passed around as small talk began.  
Sen'jin could not help but smile as he remembered the first time he inhaled that pipe's smoke. He had inhaled to much and gulped it all down instead of exhaling, that turned him sick for hours and he thought he saw several hallucinations, one of them being his long lost birthmother. The female troll in his mind tried to call for him but when he tried to reach for her, she always stepped away. Mocking him almost for trying.

The young troll shook his head from the revelries and took a small portion of the smoke from the pipe and exhaled it before he passed it around.  
"How are things in Orgrimmar?" Aponi asked curiously.  
Sen'jin took some water from one of the servers." We be preparing for war. Uncle Thrall be rallying the council of the Durotar clans and asking the spirits and the elements for their protection and guidance. Warlord Nazgrel is training up a defense force and Warlord Bloodrain be leading attacks on all Legion lands on Kalimdor. Your Sunwalker peers in Orgrimmar have been a great help, Aunt Aponi."  
She smiled and nodded at this." We've had a few demons in Mulgore ourselves, we cast them back into the Twisting neither with the Sun, nature and spear. Also the odd fireballs and totem to the face." She chuckled.  
Baine sighed sadly." I was young during the Third war, as the orcs call it. I remember the fear of Centaurs first but when the Infernals came and the destruction they caused….I remember that fear very well. My father hoped that our people would never face a threat like that again….a fool's hope but a hope it was."  
"What do you plan to do, uncle Baine?" Sen'jin asked.  
The older Tauren sat up straight." I will rally my tribes for war and wait."  
Sen'jin blinked." Wait?"  
"Yes. The demon lords are coming in full, the best thing we can do is gather our forces and pray to all who can aid us. The Ancients, nature, the spirits, the elements. It will take all of Azeroth's strength to fend off the Burning Legion, we cannot fail."  
"We will give them a fight they will long remember." Aponi added, a brief flash of light in her eyes.  
"And the Horde?" Sen'jin asked." This Horde needs a Warchief. A pro-active Warchief."  
Baine smiled." Does it?"

"Don't get him started…" Aponi sighed.  
"I am, my dear." He pecked his life mate's cheek." Think about this young Sen'jin. We're doing fine so far without a Warchief. The orc clans have their council, I represent my people and the Taunka and the Yaungol, your mother the Darkspear, Boss Midna for the Goblins and so on. The idea of the Horde was an alliance of outcasts and desperates who needed each other for survival. There shouldn't have been a warchief or anyone with that amount of absolute power." He took some water from one of the servers. Besides…" he paused to drink." Being Warchief means dealing with more politics then I wish to. Don't get me started on our…peers in the Eastern Horde. I have my fill of Forsaken each time they demand more herbs for their experiments in the Pools of vision."

It wasn't unknown that Baine had a severe dislike for the Forsaken, before it was probably because of their very undead nature but after the Grimtotems took over Thunderbluff the Forsaken did nothing to aid Baine to reclaim the city.  
Only one undead had earned Baine's respect and that was the Death Knight Tragg Highmountain, who now served as Thunderbluff's liason to the Taunka in the cold Northrend.  
"So the rumours of you wanting to be Warchief…?" Sen'jin drank some of his water.  
"If I were chosen Warchief I would bring in reforms so the need of a Warchief would no longer be needed. Important choices would be made by vote from the leaders of the Horde people."  
Sen'jin let out a inward sigh. Both of frustration and relief. Baine knew Sen'jin all his life and he would easily listen to his own advisors and him. However that meant manipulating the old bull, something Sen'jin didn't like in particular.  
He spend some time in Mulgore before he moved to the northern Barrens to meet the last candidate.

"Durak is a lot like Uncle Ga'nar, grandmother said." Geyah said as she walked with Sen'jin next to the Southfury river." He's very…"  
"Loud?" Sen'jin smirked to which Geyah chuckled.  
She returned the gesture and punched him on the shoulder amicably." Zug zug, has more Warsong blood in him than Frostwolf I heard the rumours say."  
"Those be rumours, nothing to worry about." Sen'jin replied.  
"Still…" she stopped and picked up a stone off the sandy ground. She tossed it across the river, the stone skipping along the water's edge." My brother is very angry sometimes, I don't know why. He has charisma don't get me wrong but if it wasn't for me…I think he would've led his men into their deaths several times." She tossed another stone." And now with him wanting to be Warchief…"

They left the camp a few moments ago where Durak' small army was cheering at their leader after a series of Hearthstone and wrestling matches. He liked to be challenged intellectually and physically, always had been since he was a child Sen'jin remembered. As the son of Vol'jin looked upon the men of Durak, he saw utter devotion. A young army of battle hardened warriors. All they needed was the right push. Even in Orgrimmar Durak was celebrated, 'the young wolf' he was called in reference to his white wolf mask, his Frostwolf companion, Whitefang, and the Dire spirits his sister summoned every battle to protect him. Before Drek'thar had passed away he once called Durak 'Durotan, born again'. Being called that and being the son of the Lord of the Clans must've build a lot of pressure in Durak's head. Sen'jin understood the pain of that paternal burden.  
As such Durak did not sit still the past few weeks. Ever since the night of the green stars, he and his sister traveled all across Kalimdor to eradicate the scouting demons. They had a small force, mostly young adventurers who just finished their valley of trials, but that expanded when more Horde joined…and sellswords. Sen'jin called in a favour from a goblin in Gazlowe's employ and found out a lot of coin was spend by Thrall' children that they in no way would have. Sellswords, boats, zeppelins, adventurer pays and so on. They were building themselves an army, Sen'jin thought, one rivaling Bloodrain's himself.

"He wants to be Warchief?" Sen'jin frowned.  
"He wants to follow father and Orgrim Doomhammer's footsteps." She said." All his life wanted to impress father because he wasn't the one born with the ability to speak with the elements. Sometimes when me, father and mother are conversing I sometimes look at him….and he has this look in his eye. Like he feels like he is worth less than me."  
Sen'jin shook his head." It not be like dat, Geyah. Your parents love both of you." He picked up a stone and also threw it across the river's surface.  
"I know that, Sen. I told Durak this several times but he is just so damn stubborn…" she took up another stone.  
"Runs in da family then." Sen'jin chuckled and threw another stone along with Geyah's. The two stones for a split moment race before Sen'jin's rock sank to the bottom of the river as Geyah's danced for three skips more.

"As does winning." Geyah cracked her fingers.  
"Was this a competition?" Sen'jin asked." I assumed this was just a friendly match."  
"With me, never." She replied. "Having constant challenges are a good thing. As is the need for winning."  
"Aha…" Sen'jin frowned and picked up another stone." So the person who can ask the spirit of water to help her who happens to be good at skipping stones is just a coincidence?"  
"You calling me a cheater, Sen?" she smirked.  
in reply Sen'jin handed her his stone and frowned at her." This is a killing matter now."  
She tossed the stone in the air." Three out of five?"  
The son of Vol'jin picked up a stone and stood next to Geyah. At the given mark both began throwing their stones.  
It was obvious Geyah, even without the water elementals, was beating Sen'jin hard. Three out of five became six out of ten, six out of ten became twelve out of twenty and so forth. The competitive nature fell quickly enough as Geyah held the slightly smaller troll from behind as she taught him how to swing. Her strong arm on his, swinging back and forth, back and forth, her blue eyes staring back at his. It all became so natural.

 _A few hours earlier Sen'jin met with his master in a dream realm. It was a remnant of a world Drak'thul and his peers had created for their clandestine meetings. When Sen'jin asked if his master had a master, the old orc merely gave a crooked grin and said "As Gul'dan used to say, there is always a bigger fish."  
Drak'thul was seated in a tent amongst the big white nothingness that nearly drove Sen'jin mad the first time he saw it. It took him a few tries before the big limbo no longer intimidated him, he was the son of Vol'jin after all. He had a destiny to do, madness would come later.  
The young troll went inside the tent and sat across his master." I've found my candidate."  
"Durak, I assume?" Drak'thul's fingers went through his beard.  
Sen'jin shook his head." No, Geyah."  
The old orc warlock rarely looked surprised, he had seen a lot of things in his (unnaturally) long life after all, but that look he gave Sen'jin was one for the ages." Proceed, my young friend."  
"Durak has ambitions to be Warchief yes but he wouldn't succeed…unless he has his sister guiding him." Sen'jin explained. He waited for Drak'thul to motion him to continue, which he did." Our talk we had earlier, about Gul'dan being the true uniter of the first Horde…him being a puppeteer and all? It made me think, what if I could be the puppeteer…BEHIND the puppeteer." He went into detail about the lead he found in Ratchet that led up north. And more north. The money trail leading all the way up to Darnasuss. _

_"Geyah is in the employ of Shandriss Feathermoon?!" Drak'thul coughed.  
Sen'jin nodded." That explains why most of Durak's men are from the Mor'shan Rampart and why the kaldorei have not attacked lately despite their lack of respect for the Alliance treaty fifteen years ago. I dont know why yet but give me time and I will."  
The young troll remembered during one of the Winter Veil feasts how Lord Khort was arguing with the night elven delegation. Most of the Horde could not understand their arguing but Sen'jin did. Shandriss had little patience for King Anduin and danced to her own tune.  
"You've done well, my young friend…how do you plan to use this information?"  
"I….dont know." He admitted." I've been friends with Geyah and Durak since childhood. I think I can just sneak my way in. No blackmail needed. The support from Darnassus would be invaluable for our cause."  
Drak'thul rubbed his beard again." I do not speak of black mail. Our people don't do sticks very well, you need a carrot."  
"Come again, master?"  
"I want you to seduce her, my young friend. Use your plan to infiltrate as their advisor sure, but to become the puppeteer of the puppeteer you need to pull her strings in here." He pointed his crooked yellow nail at Sen'jin's heart. " Only then can we truly have the future warchief under our influence."  
"I…I don't know if I can, master. She's been my friend for years, I cant-"  
"You have to, Sen'jin. If the world let alone the Horde, your father's Horde, wants to survive you will need to turn your heart into a stone. If Geyah has support from Darnassus and other Orcs and trolls who owe their life to Feathermoon and with Durak's natural charisma, we have a powerful weapon that the Horde can use. A banner to rally our people. A banner not even the Alliance will want to touch."_

 _Sen'jin nodded." I….understand. " He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to hurt Geyah's feelings. But he had to. He had to. For the greater good."Anything else I need to know, master?"  
"One thing…" Drak'thul sat up straight." My master claims the blood of Hellscream survived and will become the Warchief of the Horde."  
Sen'jin frowned." Lord Wrathion told you this?"  
Drak'thul slammed his cane on the young troll's head. Despite him not being there for real, it still hurt. "Shhhh, don't mention his name. But yes. "  
"How…?" Sen'jin rubbed his head." I thought that Zaela's pup died years ago?"  
"Maybe it survived…or maybe it wasn't Zaela's pup who had Hellscream's blood after all but someone else….if we can believe certain rumours."  
Sen'jin shook his head." You don't think-"  
Drak;thul stopped him." If it is, I hope the rumours are true. For our sake. Because if it is not a Hellscream we can control sits on that throne, the Golden child might fail and we all will all die in the same darkness."_

He awoke to the sound of a boat's horn, a distress signal, Geyah next to him sitting up as well. In the distance they saw a ship on fire as it sailed its way to them. Shouts and cries came from the distance.  
They shared one look at each other before they dressed.  
"One we know?" he asked. She shook her head. The duo made their way towards the shore of the burning ship where Troll fishermen and some of Durak's men were helping with people get ashore from their life boats. Geyah aided with her healing as Sen'jin helped with what little first aid he knew and the odd Healthstone he conjured up out of nothing. Durak arrived a moment later with more men as they helped set up tents. "What happened?" he asked Geyah.  
"I don't know, we just arrived." She replied and helped one of the wounded trolls. The troll said in zandali, fear in his eyes.  
Durak looked to Sen'jin who immediately translated. "The naga attacked the ship, they…summoned demons on the ship." He looked to Durak as the troll began to rave. "They set everything on fire. They're working for THEM."  
The troll began to scream after that but Geyah gently knocked him out with a punch to the face before she began to heal him.

The passengers were orcs or trolls but they bore no markings of any clans or tribes Sen'jin knew.  
One orc in particular drew his attention. He held a pickaxe in his hand which shone with a golden light for the other life boats to see. But that was not what drew Sen'jin's attention.  
It was that loud cry, loud enough for anyone still on the boat to hear. Like a Hellscream.


End file.
